American Honey
by Random Jelly Beans
Summary: Chelsea was raised on a farm, and she's always dreamed of having her own. She makes the difficult decision to leave her home for a new one, but she almost dies on the voyage. Twice. And who is this guy who keeps saving her? VxC.
1. Prologue

**A new story? really? Well, yeah. I've been plagued with so many little plot bunnies for VaughnxChelsea that would only work in a longfic that I've decided to actually start one. How far will it get? Hopefully to the end. What is the end? I have no idea. xD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters.**

* * *

She sat on the highest branch of the apple tree, her face lifted up to the warm sun, her eyes shut peacefully. A light breeze, one of those warm breezes unique to the early summertime, blew through the tree. The leaves rustled and swayed, and wisps of her coppery hair flew around her head. The soft tinkling of her mother's wind chime could be heard from the porch. Her lips pulled up into a small smile. This was why she loved her life. It was things like this moment that made her the happiest girl on earth. Her legs dangled freely high above the grass, and she felt like she could be flying. She inhaled the last of the breeze—it smelled of freshly cut grass and the sweet smell of damp earth.

"Chelsea! Come inside, Honey! It's time for lunch!"

Her blue eyes snapped open, her smile growing as she quickly surveyed the thriving farm around her. She couldn't wait to start her own. Swinging herself down the branches, she avoided the small beehive on the lowest branch, and firmly planted her feet on the ground. She looked over her shoulder to the front porch, where her mother stood in the doorway of the farmhouse. She nodded and turned towards the house.

"What's on the menu today, Ma?" Chelsea asked her mother as they walked inside. Her blue eyes danced.

"Peanut butter and honey sandwiches. What else?" Her mother answered, her own blue eyes playful.

They sat at the small wooden table in the middle of their home and dug into their food. There was no food Chelsea loved more than honey; ever since she was a little baby, her mother had told her that she was addicted to the stuff. She had lost count of all of the bee stings she'd received throughout her childhood when she tried to harvest her own honey from the beehive. Whenever she'd get those stings, she'd always try to pretend that it didn't hurt. Her mother would always tell her that that was just like her father.

Her father. Chelsea smiled slightly at the thought of him. Her mother always said that they were so similar, but her father had claimed that Chelsea was more like her father. It always made her laugh when they would start to argue about it—they were both stubborn as a pair of mules, but they were also the kindest people she'd ever known. Although, according to her Auntie, her father was at one point one of the coldest people in the town… Until, of course, he'd met Chelsea's mother.

Chelsea's mother had long blonde hair and dark, sapphire-like eyes. She was getting some laugh lines around her eyes, and her hair was gradually turning a little bit gray here and there, but she still acted like a little kid. Chelsea believed that she had more of her mother's personality and her father's looks. He had a lighter blue eye color and coppery hair, just like Chelsea did. She did, however, inherit her mother's dusting of freckles across her nose.

Chelsea and her mother looked up as the front door opened. The heavy footsteps of her father sounded on the hardwood floor. He hung up his beige coat and his blue cap before making his way over to the table and giving Chelsea's mother a quick kiss. He seated himself across from Chelsea, where her mother had already set his food.

"How was work?" Chelsea asked, taking a big bite of her sandwich. He leaned back, smirking slightly.

"Your old grandpa sure likes to boss his employees around," he said, "And he still just sits and watched all day."

"I'm honestly surprised he's still so feisty," Chelsea's mother said, wiping her hands on a napkin, "How old is he now? He was at least eighty when Chelsea was born, and that was almost twenty years ago…"

"He's just too stubborn to finally die," her father muttered.

"Gray!" Chelsea's mother exclaimed, shocked, "How can you say that?"

"Relax, Claire. I was just kidding." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, _right_. I'm sure that was just meant to be funny." She retorted, rolling of her own eyes.

Chelsea leaned back in her chair, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from snickering. Her parents were such a funny couple.

* * *

Later that night, after her parents had already been sleeping for several hours, Chelsea sat on her bed. She had her window open and let the moon illuminate her room instead of her lamp. She sighed as a soft gust of warm air blew in and made the newspaper clipping in front of her dance. She put her hand on it, keeping it from blowing away. She read it over for the umpteenth time since she'd found it the previous week.

_Are you tired of your current life, or do you just want a change of scenery? Come to Flowerbud Village, a small-yet-thriving farming town! We have many spacious plots of land available for you to start up your very own farm! For your choice of acreage, a furnished farmhouse, and tools, it will cost upwards from only 1000G! Call now: XOL – QCXO_

She sighed once more, her gaze turning to the sock full of coins she'd been saving up for her very own farm. It had been almost ten years since she'd started collecting her savings, and it was all in case something like this came up. She had nearly 2500G—probably enough for a plot and a good amount of seeds, or maybe a chicken coop. She'd decided to call the number just a couple days after she'd seen the advertisement, but she had only just resolved to actually leave.

She wasn't able to tell her parents. She didn't know how they'd react, and that scared her. She figured that she'd leave a note and the ad from the paper, and then she'd call or write to them after she got there. After she'd gotten her farm working, she'd come back to visit. She nodded to herself. It was a done deal.

She stood up off her bed and grabbed her red rucksack, which she'd filled with a change of clothes, her money, some toiletries, and a picture of her family taken when she was four years old. She loved that picture—it was taken in the middle of spring, and the backdrop of the picture had been the budding crop field. She was sitting on her father's shoulders, wearing his cap. Her mother was leaning on Chelsea's father, laughing. Her father was trying his best to look annoyed, but anyone could see that he was perfectly content.

Chelsea slung the pack over her shoulder and secured her red bandana on her head. She quietly scribbled a note out on a scrap of paper:

_Mom, Dad—_

_I found that farm I've always wanted! See how cheap it is? I'm headed to Flowerbud Village, and then I'll give you a call or maybe write a letter, in case I don't have a phone right away. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before, but I promise that this is the opportunity that we've been waiting for!_

_I love you more than anything in the world,_

_Chelsea XOXO_

She stuck the note on the refrigerator with the newspaper clipping and crept out the front door. She scanned over the sleeping farm where she grew up for the last time. And then, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes, she hurried to the beach to catch her four o'clock ferry.

* * *

**And there's the prologue. Different, yeah? I love Graire, as those who've seen my other fics can confirm. So, hey, why not combine favorite pairings? xP**

**Review, please, and tell me what you think. Oh, and sit tight--we'll get to the good stuff sooner than you may expect. I think.**


	2. Klutzy Near Death Experiences

**Chapter 1--Yay. So for my Intro to Writing and Speech class we have to write an adventure story. I'm doing the first few chapters of this fic. Yay for making fanfiction our homework! xD ...By the way, the story's due Friday, so the next chapter will be done by then, and possibly the next two, depending on how much I fit in a chapter :3**

**I do not own Harvest Moon!**

* * *

The sun was just creeping up over the dark blue ocean. Chelsea stared at it and sighed. She'd been feeling anxious butterflies in her stomach since she'd boarded the ship a few hours back. This was the most exciting thing to ever happen to her; this was an _adventure_. When she was younger, she'd longed of leaving her small, comfortable town one day on a journey like this. Now that it was finally happening, she felt like she could jump off this boat and fly to the city.

That was another thing: she was going to the city to switch boats. It would be her first trip to anywhere bigger than Forget-Me-Not Valley, which isn't exactly the hustle-and-bustle of the region. And so, she stood there against the cool metal railing, letting the salty breeze stick to her face and arms.

She let her eyes shut contentedly. This was how she loved to feel.

She didn't know how long she'd had her eyes shut, but she supposed that she must've drifted into a sort of semi-conscious, sleep-like state. She was dreaming about her new farm, all of her animals, and the new friends she'd hopefully make…

And then, she was falling.

* * *

He sat, bored, staring blankly at the churning water in the distance. He hated having to take the early passages, but he was an animal trader; it was all part of his job. He'd never complain about it aloud... Not that he had anyone to complain _to_.

He shifted his position, sighing through his nose and stretching. He never was able to sleep on boats, no matter how much he tried. He learned not to care. With enough black coffee, who needed sleep?

He turned his gaze to the people on the deck. There were only a few people on this early passage, and most of them were sleeping on the benches. There were a few men, none of them of particular interest; a middle-aged woman, who also seemed to blend into the scenery; several lazy deckhands snoozing against some crates; and a girl with a red bandana tied around her head. This girl was the only other passenger who seemed to be awake, as she stood up against the railing. She was incredibly still. He wondered briefly if she were sleeping on her feet.

Then, as he sat there watching, she started to fall forward and over the railing.

He automatically jumped onto his feet and ran across the deck as fast as his boots would carry him. Luckily that was pretty fast; he was able to grab her arm and hoist her back onto the right side of the slim fencing before she'd gone completely over. He let her go and she sunk onto the wood floor, still dazed from sleep, he assumed. She blinked twice and rubbed her eyes with her fists.

He watched her curiously for just a second longer before turning on his heel and going below deck where he hoped he wouldn't need to deal with any more irritating, accident-prone girls.

* * *

Chelsea blinked and rubbed her tired eyes, trying to fully regain her consciousness. Who was that man who pulled her up? He saved her life! She scanned over the people on the dock, but they were all fast asleep—even the sailors, she noted with a slight roll of her eyes.

She stood up clumsily on the swaying ship and put one hand on the rail to steady herself. She shrugged it off—maybe she'd dreamt the whole thing up… She shook her head. Who was she kidding? Someone had definitely just saved her from falling headfirst into the freezing ocean. But who that was, she had no idea.

Her train of thought crashed when a loud voice announced that they would be stopping in the city in a few minutes. Chelsea felt a small smile break onto her face—this was what she'd been waiting for. She grabbed her rucksack off the ground and pulled it on. She watched as the city's dark silhouette grew larger and larger as the boat chugged on.

* * *

"Wow," Chelsea breathed, standing on the large dock at the city. She looked around at all the tall buildings, their tops swallowed by the overcast sky. She was amazed at how many people there were—she couldn't even count all the ones on the sidewalks, which was a drastic change from her hometown's whopping population of thirty-some people. Taking a few hesitant steps, Chelsea found herself getting caught in the flow of people, heading down the sides of the dark-paved streets at a brisk rate. She continued walking, glancing around at the billboards and the taxis and the shops and the restaurants—it was all so _different_. She caught a whiff of smoky exhaust coming from an old pickup on the road. She wrinkled her nose in disgust; nothing back at home had smelled like _that_.

The river of people turned around a corner and Chelsea realized that she had another boat to catch back at the pier—the small ferry she'd taken from town didn't travel to Flowerbud Village, so she had to take two separate passages. She tried to stop her walking, but she found herself being pushed along involuntarily. A tiny sense of panic settling deep in her gut, Chelsea planted her feet firmly and spun on her heel, almost knocking over a man in a suit. He gave her a dirty look, but she ignored it as well as she could. She started wading back through the people-river; it was far more difficult going upstream than down.

She hurried back up the wide sidewalk, weaving around more people than she'd ever seen in one place. She suddenly realized that she had a very sheltered childhood.

Finally reaching that first corner again, Chelsea could see the dock in the distance. She started to jog between people, ducking under limbs and jumping out of the paths of others. As she approached the ocean, the panic in her stomach faded into a dull sense of relief and she sighed as it flew through her veins. She slowed to a halt, catching her breath. She was so close, and her boat was still getting ready to leave. She was safe.

But then she felt the river of people shove her backwards. She lost her footing quickly—she never was the most coordinated girl in town—and found herself being jostled in all sorts of different directions. She finally broke free of the crowd when she received an especially hard push, landing herself off the sidewalk altogether. She stumbled and fell forward onto her hands and knees on the cool, black asphalt. Her loosened bandana slipped down in front of her eyes, but not before she caught a glimpse of the large truck speeding directly towards her.

* * *

**Uh-oh, it's a cliffhanger. Of course she's going to get out of it. I mean, I can't let the main character die before we even _get _to Sunny Island... or can I? Review for Vaughn's amazingly fast reflexes, please! Seriously, he was across that deck in... what would it have been, like two seconds? He must _really _not want to be a witness to Chelsea's death. xD**


	3. On a Boat

**It's 3:15 in the morning and I'm dead tired, but here's the next chapter. My teacher better like this darn story or I'm going to be pretty ticked.**

**...Enjoy! xP**

* * *

He maneuvered himself around and between people on the sidewalks, not really paying much attention to anything except for his boots on the cement. He didn't even need to look up to know when he had to turn a corner or cross a street—he'd walked from that dock to his apartment twice a week, every week for the last five years. Being a dedicated introvert, he didn't care much for all the people and noise found in a city as big as this one, but he'd learned to just grin and bear it.

Actually, that's not quite right—he didn't ever smile. It was a waste of energy, in his opinion. Why bother smiling when no one really cares about how you feel, anyway? He'd heard different arguments against that mindset, but none of them really mattered to him. He was a lone wolf, an outcast with a hard purple gaze. He'd never been one to rely on others, and he'd eventually just stopped making friends altogether.

But that didn't bother him. Oh, of course not—why should it? He actually preferred spending his time alone. Naturally, though, he did have to communicate with his customers, but that was all he would put himself through along the lines of socializing.

He clicked his tongue in discontent as a particularly strong, cold breeze blew by. He looked up from the ground to readjust the black Stetson on his head and caught sight of something in the street. He blinked once, making sure he was seeing clearly. He rolled his eyes and gave out a little sigh. It was that bothersome, clumsy girl with the bandana from the boat. But what on earth was she doing in the middle of the street?

He narrowed his eyes, noticing that her red bandana had come loose and covered her eyes. Didn't she know that you can't just sit in the middle of the road? He glanced back over his shoulder and saw a rather large truck making its way towards the girl at a quickening rate. With one final look around—he had to make sure no one else was going to try to help, just in case he wouldn't have to—he stepped off the sidewalk and plucked her off the asphalt by her forearm.

He really disliked having a conscience. He didn't particularly want to take the time to save this idiotic girl repeatedly, but he knew that he'd feel guilty later if he let her die.

"Wha—?" The girl started, severe confusion evident in her voice. He let her go and she ended up landing on the sidewalk, giving out a small, "Oof."

"Watch where y'end up," he said, his voice cold. "Y'almost got run over."

She looked up in his direction and he noticed that the bandana was still obscuring her vision. She reached up to fix it, but found that it was tangled in her hair. She sighed, her frustration getting the best of her, and stood awkwardly on the cemented pathway.

"Uh—um," she hesitated, still fiddling with her bandana, trying to take it off, "Thanks for, well, uh—thanks for saving me."

He raised one of his eyebrows at the girl in front of him. She was obviously very vulnerable—perhaps she'd never been to a place like this, he thought. She continued to try to pull the bandana from her eyes, but to no avail. He noticed how small she looked, standing a solid foot shorter than him. She was a lanky little thing, her gracelessness blatant in just the way she carried herself—arms dangling, shoulders vaguely hunched, feet turned inward slightly in her insecurity. He wondered what she was doing in a city like this. She was obviously from somewhere much smaller, like a farming town, maybe.

He shrugged his shoulders and grunted in reply to her thanks, and, not really wanting to stay for a conversation, continued down the sidewalk to his apartment before the girl could get herself in another potentially-fatal situation.

* * *

Chelsea, extremely frustrated, finally yanked her bandana off her head. She blinked a few times, her eyes readjusting to the dimmed light of the cloudy day, and scowled down at the cloth in her hands. Some lucky bandana _that_ was. Sighing, she tied it back on her head in the proper manner and looked around. It looked like the guy who'd saved her was long gone… just like that guy on the ferry. She entertained the thought that maybe they were the same person—but that was very improbable, based on the amount of people in this city.

She frowned slightly, wishing that she could have at least seen the guy who'd saved her—either of them. She continued down towards the pier, trying not to let the bad start of her adventure get to her. Soon she would be in Flowerbud Village, planting her first harvest. She smiled a little at the thought. Things couldn't get much worse, so why worry? Everything would be fine.

* * *

Chelsea sat on the flimsy bed in the passenger room she'd been assigned for the three-day boat trip to Flowerbud. The sun had set early, leaving Chelsea in her own dark room. She didn't mind too much; she'd been grateful at first for the opportunity to get some extra sleep, as she'd pulled an all-nighter the day before. But then, as she was changing into her pajamas, the power had flickered out. And so she sat on her bed, staring into the blackness, unable to sleep.

A flash of white light illuminated the small room for a fraction of a second, followed immediately by a deafening boom. Chelsea let out a startled scream. She took a deep breath, putting her hand over her speeding heart. There was a storm? Wasn't it a little… _dangerous_ to be out on the ocean in a storm?

She knew the answer as the boat suddenly shook and swayed violently in the water. Now, Chelsea had never been on a boat before that day, but she was pretty sure that that wasn't supposed to happen. She sprang off the bed and changed back into her shorts and yellow shirt. She pulled on her orange coat and bandana before opening up the door and peeking out into the hallway. It was incredibly empty—almost eerie, in a way. She could hear heavy footsteps and rain beating on the deck from above. Curious, she grabbed her rucksack and walked out and up the stairs leading to the deck. She came up and gasped as she looked around. There was a gaping hole in the wooden floor, and rain and ocean water poured into it. She bit her lip anxiously—the lightning had quite possibly struck the ship. What was going to happen? Where was she supposed to go—and what about the other passengers? Had anybody been hurt?

Chelsea ran over to one of the sailors, about to ask him what was going on, exactly. She never did reach him, though: an amazingly large wave managed to creep up the side of the ship and knock Chelsea off her feet. She reached out to grab the railing to steady herself, but was surprised and terrified to find that it was nowhere near her. She briefly remembered seeing the dark, churning sea coming closer and closer to her as she plummeted over the side of the boat. As soon as she made contact with the water, the only things that she could really process were how cold she was, how much her parents were probably worrying, and how badly she wished for that guy to come out of nowhere and save her again—because, really, isn't three times a better number to end on than two?

She sure thought so.

* * *

**End chapter two. This is where my school project cuts off, so everything before this author's note is being turned in to my Intro to Writing and Speech teacher. Yay? Yes. Yay. This means that I can _actually have romance_ in the later chapters. xP **

**Can you guys give me your opinions on if this is a fitting ending for the project? It seems a little... I don't know, abrupt. xP  
**

**Review, pretty please--your reviews make my day. I'll love you forever if you leave me a review! Oh, and thanks to the readers who add to alerts/faves, even if you're not reviewing--you make me ecstatic, too :3**


	4. Deserted Islands Are the Ideal Home

Update--a little late, my bad. I got my grade for the story--98/100! Part of it was self-evaluation, and I gave myself a minus 2. Haha :P

I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit longer (only by a couple hundred words, though), but not as much... I dunno, action, I suppose. It'll get more exciting again, I promise.

Enjoy!

* * *

Gentle waves rolled onto the warm, placid shore before retreating back into the sea. The sand was warm under the summer sun—it bore down on the small beach mercilessly. Chelsea felt the hot rays on her face and slowly opened her eyes. She squinted into the light; her eyes weren't very fast to adjust. She sluggishly pulled herself up and into a sitting position, sand sticking to her damp back. She was surprised to find her bandana still attached to her head, and her rucksack was lying right beside her, however soggy it may have been. She glanced around the empty beach, a hundred questions flooding her mind: where was she? What happened to the boat? Was everyone alright?

"Oho, looks like you're awake now!"

Chelsea gasped slightly and turned around, searching for the owner of the raspy voice that had called out to her. Her gaze settled on a small old man with a large walking stick and tattered overalls. He had only liver spots atop his head—no hair to be seen, save the very large, bushy mustache that nearly covered his mouth.

Chelsea felt very uncomfortable under his stare.

"Um, who are you?" She squeaked, standing up shakily. Her legs felt like lead.

"The name's Taro—I'm a retired farmer. And you are?"

Chelsea raised her eyebrows. She felt it ironic that she'd been stranded on an island with another farmer. She did not, however, feel any more comfortable around this man—his little bead-eyes were giving her the creeps.

"I'm Chelsea," she replied, making sure her voice stayed strong, "Where… are we?"

The old man shrugged. "I don't have any idea."

Before Chelsea could express her panic at his answer, another chorus of voices sounded from somewhere behind Taro.

"Grandpa, we found some buildings and an old farm! It looks like people used to live here."

Chelsea leaned to her right and looked around the old farmer. She saw three people, all with matching pink hair. There was a woman with a gentle air about her—she appeared to be in her forties, maybe—who had a calm smile on her face. She walked with a subtle grace that impressed and, more importantly, comforted Chelsea. This woman did not seem harmful at all. The other two people seemed to be about Chelsea's age; the taller one—a lanky, glasses-clad boy with a clumsy walk—seemed very nervous as he walked onto the beach. The other one—a girl with a pretty face and a hard stare—marched up to Taro with her lips set into a triumphant smirk. The girl saw Chelsea and cocked her head questioningly.

"Who's this, Gramps?" She asked. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her half-apron.

"I-I'm Chelsea," Chelsea said, stepping around Taro and offering the girl her hand to shake.

"Chelsea," the older woman repeated from her spot near the boy, her voice soft and airy, "What a beautiful name."

Chelsea could feel her cheeks heat up some at the compliment. "Um, thank you, ma'am."

"I'm Natalie," the girl said, eying Chelsea's hand for a moment before shaking it. She motioned behind her to the boy and woman. "This is my mom, Felicia, and my wimp of a brother, Elliot."

Chelsea noticed the boy's face flush from embarrassment. She offered him and the woman a friendly smile; these people were quirky, but nice. Taro started walking in the direction that the others came from, off the beach. Natalie turned and glared at him.

"Wait up, Gramps!" She called, "Where are you going?"

"Let's see this old farm you say you found. It may be a good place to set you young'uns to work!"

Chelsea furrowed her brow as the pink-haired family followed the old man up the path. Why were they all so calm? Did _they_ know where they were? Sighing, she ran after them.

She jogged up a dirt pathway that cut between a few run-down houses—this must've been a small town at one point, Chelsea thought. She came up a small hill and stopped near the family at the northernmost point of the village. It was the entrance to the farm.

Chelsea glanced around the premises. There was a tiny farmhouse that seemed to be in excellent shape, along with a nice stable and material shed. Behind those was a huge empty field—well, empty of crops. It was totally littered with weeds, branches, and stones. It was a sad sight for Chelsea; she believed that farms were places of life—growing crops, raising animals, starting a family—not places meant to be empty and lonesome.

"Hm," Taro said, surveying the farm himself, "looks like a lot of work to get this place up and running again. Too much for me, and I know you grandchildren of mine aren't too set on so much hard labor…"

"What about one of the houses in the town, Father?" Felicia said, her face serene. "The house closest to here looked like it would be easy enough to fix up."

Taro nodded slowly. "A good idea. Elliot, Natalie—why don't you go and clear it out now?"

The two siblings sighed and left, Natalie muttering complaints under her breath. Taro turned to follow them, but Chelsea stopped him.

"Wait! Are you guys really going to… _live_ here?"

Felicia giggled. "Of course, dear. We were looking for a nice, not-crowded place to move, and what's less crowded than a deserted island?"

"B-but…" Chelsea objected weakly, her shoulders slumped in bewilderment, "How can you _live_ on a deserted island? Don't you need… I don't know, stores for food? Clothes?"

"Oh, I've already contacted the mainland to let them know where we are. It's always handy to carry a radio," Felicia winked, giggling behind her hand.

Chelsea gaped at her, her mind blank. They were actually going to live on the island… Suddenly, an idea blinked in Chelsea's head. Her face lit up as she glanced around.

"Taro, Felicia," she started excitedly, "do you think that _I_ could work this farm?"

Taro's bushy eyebrows shot up. "You sure a little one like you can handle such a huge farm?"

Chelsea nodded fervently. "Yes! Yes, I _know_ I can!"

Felicia smiled warmly. "Well then, I suppose that settles it. If you need any help, just come ask us—we'd be delighted to lend a hand. Maybe we can make this island into a nice little town, if the farm does well."

Chelsea's eyes burned with determination as she studied the field—_her_ field. She'd managed to get an even larger farm than she could have in Flowerbud, and for free, too! Chelsea couldn't help but let the grin on her face grow. This was it. This was her dream.

* * *

He set the newspaper down on the small table of the fast food joint, sighing. There had been a bad storm overnight and a ship had gone down a few miles off the coast—luckily, they'd rescued all but five passengers: one family of four, and a young woman. He really only began reading the front-page article because he knew it would affect his work. All passages were postponed from the city's port for 48 hours, so he would be late arriving in Flowerbud Village to deliver their weekly order of feed.

"Vaughn, man, what's the matter? You haven't touched your fries."

He sighed again and glanced up at the man across from him from beneath his hat. "Not hungry," he muttered.

"Aw, c'mon. There's gotta be more to it. Is it 'cause we'll be late on the job?" The man pressed, his amused eyes watching Vaughn.

"Quit talkin' so much, Riley," Vaughn mumbled, massaging his temples in annoyance. He didn't even understand why this coworker had started talking to him in the first place, back when he started the job.

"I was just worrying about you. Jeez."

"Don't waste your energy." Vaughn muttered, rolling his eyes.

"You're the coldest person I know, Vaughn." Riley frowned, picking a french fry off Vaughn's plate.

"Thanks."

* * *

Tada. Bad ending, and I know that it's probably a little confusing, but... I tried my best ^^;

Comments? Critique? Questions? Alliteration? Review! :P


	5. Not a Promising Start

**Ah, it's been too long. Sorry I haven't updated in a while--I had a little bout of writer's block. Ugh. I squeezed this chapter out and I'll try to get another one done tomorrow after I write an essay, ha. I do hope you enjoy this little one, though, even though it's lacking dialogue :P**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters :3**

* * *

Chelsea set her watering can down next to her first small plot of tomatoes, wiping her smudged face with her arm. She let out an exhausted sigh and glanced up at the boiling sun, wishing it could cool down a little bit; she was worried that her plants would dry out if this dry spell kept up for much longer.

It had been almost two weeks since Chelsea had taken over the farm, and she was proud of her work thus far: she'd managed to clear it of small debris and weeds, but the large stumps and boulders still stood. She had two plots of tomatoes and two plots of corn growing slowly in the dry soil. They weren't looking so peppy—in fact, she was noticing their rather brown coloring just that morning—but she was giving them as much water as she could before her arms ran out of strength.

Chelsea made her way over to the river on the west side of the ranch and rinsed her face off with a few splashes of its cool water. Feeling a little bit more refreshed, she stood up and headed down the path and into the "town."

Felicia had managed to get a few other people to move onto the island, along with getting boats to stop by regularly. A general store had been opened by a middle-aged man named Chen and his cute little boy, Charlie. There was also an old—but still very, very strong—carpenter named Gannon who'd moved in and would do any construction Chelsea needed done on the ranch. An animal shop had opened up, too. The owner, a sweet and homey woman named Mirabelle, had offered to give Chelsea her first chicken for free—Chelsea had to turn her down regretfully, though, seeing as how she didn't have a coop to keep the bird in. Mirabelle's daughter, Julia, was a beautiful and sweet girl, just like her mother. Chelsea had really taken a liking to her—in fact, Julia was the closest thing she'd had to a best friend in years.

Smiling faintly, Chelsea decided to make a stop at the animal shop to say good morning to her favorite friends.

"Chelsea, hey," Julia's ever-exuberant voice rang out as the farmer pushed open the door, "good timing. You're a good cook, yeah?"

"Um, I guess so," Chelsea replied, walking over to the kitchen area where her blonde friend stood. Her eyebrows shot up at the messy countertop—eggshells broken and scattered around, a hearty dusting of flour, a small puddle of what appeared to be melted butter—and she faced Julia. "Baking again?"

Julia grinned sheepishly, swiping a stray wisp of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "_Trying_, Chelsea. Trying."

"Right." Chelsea nodded as she moved to get some towels, the corners of her mouth pulling up in an amused smile. "Let's see if we can salvage this. You were trying to make…?"

"Cookies," Julia said, helping to wipe up the mess.

"But I thought Elliot didn't like cookies." Chelsea teased, her face smug as she watched Julia for her reaction.

"What?" She frowned, her cheeks flushed, "I thought… But, when he helped me that one day, he said…"

"Ah, Julia," Chelsea said, shaking her head, "If you're going to make him a birthday present, I'd suggest stir-fried veggies."

Julia just nodded, pouting, as Chelsea continued to wipe down the counter. Honestly, Julia'd only just met Elliot and she was already head-over-heels… The farmer shook her head. She'd never understood how girls could get so obsessed with a guy—it just didn't make sense to her.

* * *

Vaughn frowned down at the assignment sheet in his hands. His Wednesdays and Thursdays were going to be spent on some island he'd never heard of before. Now, he wasn't particularly unhappy with the news—far from it, actually. He would have two more days of work a week, and that meant two more days of pay. Two more days of pay meant he could potentially move into a better apartment. Of course, the downside meant that he would only be spending Saturday and Sunday in said apartment, and when he left it alone for so long the bugs liked to get comfortable. He bit down on his cheek, contemplating silently. He decided he'd try it out—what was the worst that could happen?

No—scratch that. He didn't want to think about it.

He glanced at the white calendar pined up on his wall. It was the twenty-first, a Sunday. He would be leaving for Flowerbud Village in the morning, and then on Tuesday night he'd make the trip over to this new island. On Thursday he'd catch a boat out to Forget-Me-Not Valley and spend Friday there before heading back to the city that night.

He was a very busy man, but that's how he liked to keep it. His work was his life; the more work he got, the more he lived.

* * *

Plucking the last of the barely-ripened tomatoes off their vine, Chelsea sighed, looking it over. It was an orangish red with holes where insects had tried to eat the stiff flesh. Nearly all of the harvest had turned out like this, and there wasn't enough time left to plant more. There were only six days left in the season, and that was counting this harvest day. Her plots of corn had all withered away into nothing because of the dry spell.

All in all, it wasn't a very promising start. Chelsea would persevere, though—with enough hard work, anything would be possible. It had taken her mother well over a year to get her farm working well, and it was almost two years after that that she and Chelsea's father decided to get married.

Sighing, Chelsea walked the produce over to the shipping bin. She'd buy some seeds for fall with the money from her poor tomatoes and maybe have some better luck. She started down the road that led to town, her eyes watching her red boots kick up dust as she walked. She was just thinking about where she should be going when she walked right into someone—someone tall. She stumbled back a bit, dazed, before looking up in apology, silently praying to the Harvest Goddess that she hadn't run into Gannon. When she looked up and saw a pair of cool, purple eyes studying her, she was very surprised—this _definitely_ wasn't Gannon.

* * *

Was he losing his mind, or was this really that same girl? That girl who always managed to find some trouble. That girl who was so clumsy, she should be dead. That girl who suddenly always seemed to be appearing in his life.

Yes, he thought grimly, this is that girl. She's got the same red bandana tied around her head, Goddess help me.

* * *

**Hmmm, I feel as though I shouldn't have ended it there. I want some more dialogue, darnit! Ah, I suppose it'll come, eventually. So, anyways, please review and tell me that the fact that i wrote it after two in the morning shows, please :3**

**Thanks for reading! :D**


	6. A Bottle of Milk

**Aha, another update! Your reviews make me so happy and _motivated_! You see how quickly I update when I get reviews? xD But seriously, I love you guys. You rock my socks.**

**Oh, and I hope there's enough dialogue here to make up for the silent chapter before this one. xP**

* * *

He blinked. Why did the Goddess have to torment him like this? He sighed internally. Maybe this wasn't the same girl from the boat… and the street. Maybe this wasn't that incredibly annoying and accident-prone kid. Maybe this was another, more bearable girl—one that would ignore him like everyone else. That would make his job so much easier.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry," the girl mumbled, steadying herself and looking up at him. He tried his very best not to cringe at the familiar voice. There was no mistaking it; this was the same girl. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to get back on his boat and sail far, far away.

"Wasn't your fault," Vaughn muttered, pulling his Stetson down over his eyes. He figured he'd be better off if she didn't remember him. Or, at least, she'd be more likely to leave him alone.

She looked up at him, curiosity swirling in her blue eyes. "Have we met, sir?"

Vaughn felt his left eye twitch. "I don't recall it."

"Oh," Chelsea frowned slightly, her face studying Vaughn's intently. "I'm sorry. You just seemed familiar. Have you ever visited Mineral Town?"

Vaughn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, getting restless. He didn't appreciate conversation much, especially this one. "No."

Her face fell. "Oh."

And with that, Vaughn turned and walked back down the path, disappearing behind the animal shop.

* * *

Chelsea watched the retreating figure of the tall man, her mouth left slightly agape at his blatant rudeness. She was sure that she'd met him someplace before… she recognized his voice. It was gruff and deep, but it had a peculiar twang to it. She knew she'd heard it before. But she was also sure that she'd remember someone with such striking features—it wasn't everyday that she ran into someone with silver hair and cold, purple eyes—but as she searched her memory, she could not recall ever seeing him before. Maybe he was lying and had been to Mineral Town, she reasoned. No—that wouldn't make sense; he didn't seem that much older than she was, so if he'd visited, she would've remembered him.

She sighed, frustrated. She would have to figure it out another day. Now, she was just curious as to who he was and what his business was on the island. If he was moving in, she would want to introduce herself properly. Straightening her bandana and attempting to smooth the wrinkles from her shirt, Chelsea marched in the direction that the strange silver-haired man had gone.

"Hello?" She peeked her head around the wall, glancing around for the man. She didn't see him. Biting her lower lip anxiously, she slowly opened the door to the animal shop. She felt her lips tug up into a small smile as she walked inside the rest of the way—she'd found him.

"Ah! Chelsea, good timing," Mirabelle said, walking around from behind the counter and gesturing towards the man standing quietly in the corner, "Have you met our new livestock dealer yet?"

Ah, so he was an animal dealer, Chelsea noted. She tilted her head at the man, examining him with new eyes. He certainly looked the part—in fact, he looked like a full-on cowboy, if Chelsea did say so herself. He sported a black Stetson atop his head and wore a black shirt and a pair of black jeans. She wondered how he could be wearing so much black on such a hot day, especially on a late summer day like this. He also had a brown vest on and two belts, one of which had a lasso—a real lasso!—tied to it. Chelsea marveled at his brown cowboy boots—she'd always wanted a pair of good boots, but her parents could never really afford any for her. Shaking her head slightly, she brought herself back from her reverie.

"Not exactly," Chelsea smiled, directing her gaze toward Mirabelle, "We ran into each other a bit ago, but didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves."

She thought she saw him roll his eyes before pulling his hat down and leaning against the back wall. Mirabelle turned around to face him, motioning for him to come over.

"Well then, get on over here and introduce yourself, young man!" She exclaimed, chuckling slightly. He pushed off the wall, muttering what Chelsea thought was a "yes, ma'am."

Now that he stood still right in front of her, Chelsea realized how seriously tall this man was. He towered over her a good foot, maybe even more. Of course, Chelsea was a short one, being the smallest person in all of her hometown—but still, she didn't think she could remember anyone being this tall. Except for her dad, maybe.

"Uh," Chelsea said, realizing that they'd been standing in silence, "My name's Chelsea. I work the farm up the path—It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Vaughn." He nodded, tipping his hat, his face hard as he added, "Pleasure's mine."

"Ah, I'm glad you two could meet each other," Mirabelle beamed, her hands clasping in front of her chest, "Chelsea, Vaughn's here every Wednesday and Thursday from now on. He'll be delivering animals and feed to the shop, so you should get a barn or coop built soon!"

Chelsea nodded, but in her head she was still wondering how she'd be able to stretch her money to buy seeds for fall and eat two meals a day. She let out a silent sigh—she wasn't expecting it to be this hard, but she knew it would get better if she just kept at it; or, at least, she hoped it would…

"It was nice meeting you, but I need to get down to Chen's shop before he closes up—I'm running low on groceries," Chelsea laughed, taking a step towards the door. Vaughn had already migrated back to his corner, she noted. Mirabelle nodded and waved.

"I'll see you later, then. Good luck on the ranch!" The woman called as Chelsea walked out the door. She was immediately greeted by a warm breeze and the golden light of a summertime sunset. She glanced down the path, smiling faintly at the reflection of the vibrant sun on the ocean's waves. She hurried through her grocery shopping, buying a bag of flour, a few bottle of milk, and a jar of honey for biscuits. She put the goods in her rucksack and hurried outside, hoping to see some of the sunset before night fell completely.

She walked down the dirt pathway in the twilight, headed down towards the beach. The red sun was just making contact with the horizon and the crickets were just starting to play their nighttime song. Chelsea looked over the calm waters, a tiny, unintended smile stuck on her face. She noticed a tall, dark figure standing near the dock. Curious, she headed over.

"Hey," she said. He ignored her.

"How are you?" She asked. No answer.

"Do you like the island so far?" She tried, but once again, there was no answer. Sighing, she traced the toe of her boot in the sand. After a several minutes, she reached into her rucksack and sorted through it for a moment, unknowingly catching Vaughn's attention. She pulled out a bottle of milk and held it out to him, hoping he would accept it. She didn't have much, but she wanted to be this man's friend. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure what this cowboy liked—but she happened to have some extra milk, so she'd start with that.

He stared at the small offering for some time. She could feel her face heating up in embarrassment—he didn't like it, or maybe he just didn't want to accept anything from her. Either way, Chelsea felt humiliated. She directed her gaze towards the sand, frowning. She was surprised when she felt the bottle being lifted from her hands. Her head snapped up, her eyes confused.

"Thank you," he muttered, his face stoic, "I'll take it."

And, with a small tip of his hat, he headed back off the beach, leaving Chelsea staring after him.

That Vaughn was a very intriguing man, Chelsea thought, and she knew that her Wednesdays and Thursdays had just become a whole lot more interesting.

* * *

**What did you think of the dialogue--was it to your standards? xDDD I really do hope you all liked it! In case you didn't realize it, Chelsea's quite the odd one. She doesn't like to be disliked, haha. The next chapter won't come as quick as this one, and over my spring break I'm trying to write 30,000 words in my original fiction novel, so I may or may not get an update for this lovely little fic in. I will try, though--I will try! :P**

**Review, please, my lovelies! :3**


	7. Good Morning

**Update! But, I have some bad news, guys. It seems like I have upset the Dialogue Faerie--she didn't come visit for this chapter... at all. Dx**

**Well, I hope it's alright, anyways... Next chapter should be TONS more chatty, I swear. It's just so hard to come up with lots of dialogue when you're writing for Vaughn. I mean, come on, the man hardly talks at all! Oh well, I'll just do better next time. I hope you enjoy this chapter anyways, and even though it looks shorter than the others, it's actually about the same word count--there's just not a lot of new paragraphs Dx**

**And, a little note as to why neither this nor my original fiction have really been worked on: I have this weird lump thing in my throat and I've been at the hospital pretty much every day this break for scans and an ultrasound and all that fun stuff. So I have an excuse. I think. xP  
**

**Enjoy :3**

* * *

The room was silent and nearly pitch-black. The only light that could be seen came from a small digital clock's reading: 4:00 A.M.

A loud beeping suddenly blared from said clock, jolting the sleeping man next to it awake. He rolled over, slapping his hand down on the snooze bar. But he wasn't planning on snoozing, oh no. It was time to get to work.

Flopping himself off the side of his futon, he rubbed some of the sleep out of his eyes and trudged to the bathroom. He cringed away from the light as he first turned it on and then splashed his face with cold water from the sink. He dried off his face, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes narrowed some and he sighed.

He'd dreamt about her again. It had been five nights since he'd met her on that island, and three of those nights had cursed him with that girl in his subconscious mind. It'd always start off the same—he'd wake up on that island and go out for work—but then it'd change a little. One time in the dream she'd been talking at him in the animal shop. Another time she'd run up to him and given him a bowl of porridge. And then this last night they had been walking in the forest together in silence.

Now, none of these seem like very odd scenarios. They all seem like things that could very well happen in real life. The thing that made this series of dreams weird was that Vaughn _never_ dreamed about other people. Hell, he barely even had dreams about himself—so why on earth should he be dreaming about this annoying farmer girl?

Scowling, he trudged out of the bathroom and into his dimly-lit apartment. It was one room, not including the bathroom, with the north wall turned into the designated kitchen area. The rest of the room was filled with a futon—his bed and his couch all in one—and an old reclining chair that he never used, along with some mismatch side tables and an ancient television that hadn't been turned on in weeks. He switched his small coffeepot on and opened up his refrigerator, scanning for any leftovers that could possibly still be edible. His search was futile. Giving up, he walked over to the worn dresser against the far wall and pulled out his attire or the day to change.

After he got most of his outfit on, he poured himself a cup of steaming coffee and took a sip, burning his mouth. He grimaced and tugged his gloves on, wishing there were some way to cool coffee down to the perfect temperature ASAP. Upon thinking on it further, he realized that he actually didn't care, and took another scalding sip.

He glanced at his clock and let out a curse—he was late. The boat for Flowerbud Village was leaving in ten short minutes. He downed the rest of the hot, bitter caffeine and tugged on his boots. He'd just got his hat on his head as he speed-walked out the door and down the hall. He took the stairs down the two flights to the ground floor and hurried out onto the dark, empty sidewalk. He cherished this time he had alone, walking to the pier. It was the same with most of his boat rides—and his job involved quite a few of them. He rather disliked being on the job in places like Flowerbud Village, where he often had to speak to people on a regular basis.

The thing that mainly got to him when it came to talking to people was how _fake_ they seemed. None of them ever really wanted to talk to him. It was just their instinct of common courtesy that had them greeting him whenever they walked by, or whenever he sold to them. It seemed like it'd been years since someone had genuinely cared about how he was doing when they asked…

Vaughn boarded the boat just before it set off to sea for the six-hour passage to Flowerbud. He took his usual seat on the top deck and stared out at the dark waves, reconstructing his hard mask for yet another day's wear.

* * *

A small thread of weak light shown through the window and onto her eyelids. Feeling the warmth, she rolled over in her messy bed, her tattered quilt tangled in her legs and spilling onto the floor. She slowly opened her eyes before bringing her hands up to her face to rub away the grogginess. Sighing, she flipped into her back and stretched out her limbs, smiling faintly as a few of her bones popped nicely.

She pushed herself up and into a sitting position, wiping the corner of her mouth self-consciously—her mother had told her a while back that she drooled adorably in her sleep. Yawning, she stood up and stretched out her back. She grabbed her brush off her nightstand and pulled it through her chestnut hair, frowning as she yanked out some of the tougher knots. She switched the brush back out for her bandana and tied it on her head before changing out of her nightshirt and into her shorts and her yellow and orange shirts. She tugged on her red rubber boots and grabbed one of Wednesday night's biscuits from her table. It was getting stale, which was something she should have been expecting—after all, it had been made five days ago.

Chelsea frowned thoughtfully as she sat and nibbled on her food. Wednesday… she'd met Vaughn five days ago, and five days ago he'd surprised her and accepted the bottle of milk. Of course, he completely ignored her on Thursday when she came into the animal shop to say hello to Mirabelle and Julia, and she'd been to afraid to go up to him to start a conversation.

No… _Afraid_ wasn't the right word. Intimidated, maybe, but she knew she wasn't _afraid_ of that cowboy. He was cold, and she had realized back on Friday that she would get nowhere with him if she was waiting from _him_ to talk to _her_. She'd have to gather up her courage and come up with something to talk about if she wanted to be his friend. The question was, what was she supposed to talk to him about?

Slumping her shoulders, she stood up and grabbed her rucksack, preparing to head out for another day's work. Her stomach wasn't anywhere near full, but she'd learned to get used to it—she'd also noticed some edible herbs growing around the town, so she'd started scavenging in the afternoons after her work was finished.

One way or another, she was going to get by.

* * *

**Ugh, I had a better ending planned, but then I realized it would box me in and couldn't do it ;-;**

**I want to write the next chapter tomorrow, but I can't. I get to go see a specialist for my thyroid! HOO-RAH. _  
**

**I do hope you'll all stick around for the next chapter, which should be significantly more interesting than this. I'm planning on it coming soon! Review and tell me what you think Vaughn's weird dreams mean! What's that? They MEAN something? Yes, yes they do! :O**


	8. Ready or Not

**Has it really been a month? Wow, I fail. Aha. My bad, guys. Here's a non-filler update! And I actually know what's going to happen next chapter, too, so all I need is time to write it. Which, frustratingly enough, seems to be in short supply at the end of the school year. Oh, and, just to be random: I am now fifteen. This is my birthday gift to you guys, even though my birthday was the sixth. xD**

**My good friend, Gyllbane, drew some amazing fanart for this fic--check it out, I put links in the top of my profile. She got those scenes spot-on, especially the one from the end of chapter 5. Be sure to tell her how EPIC she is for drawing those beautiful pictures :3**

**Now, on with the story! xP**

* * *

"Why don't you go out and feed the animals, Vaughn?" Mirabelle asked from behind the counter of the small shop. She was always concerned about her new employee. She'd never thought someone so cold could exist. Sure, she'd heard of people like him, but she'd never imagined that they'd really be so antisocial. How could they function like that? Why would he want to even try?

She watched as he silently opened the door and slinked outside, a cool, early-autumn breeze blowing in before the door shut. Sighing, she went back to work, wondering if he would ever open up to anyone.

Chelsea ambled down the road from her ranch, covered head to toe in damp dirt and sweat. She'd finally finished planting her first round of fall crops: a few plots of sweet potatoes and several plots of carrots. She didn't really care much for carrots. She greatly preferred the taste of sweet potatoes, but they were just too expensive to grow a lot of, so she bought the cheap carrot seeds. She was feeling a bit more optimistic about this new season as she breathed in the brisk, cooling air and found the warm scent of autumn—like cinnamon apples, or pumpkin pie. The rich smell of sun-baked leaves wafted through the air, riding the breeze through the island. Chelsea felt that autumn brought the colors out of the earth. If summer was her favorite season, autumn was a close second. But she also like spring… and winter, now that she thought about it. She shook her head, smiling at herself.

As she passed by the animal shop, she noticed a few new calves and a tiny lamb laying out front, basking in the golden sunset and chewing lazily on grass. Her smile widened. She'd always loved taking care of the farm animals—in fact, they were something she missed the most from Mineral Town…

Chelsea slowed down to a stop next to the lamb and knelt down, lifting the small sheep onto her lap like she'd seen her mother do at home so many times. She stroked the soft wool, coaxing a soft baa out of the little lamb. She wished she'd had enough money for a barn. She suddenly wanted nothing more than a few animals and a little patch of crops—If she could have that, maybe she wouldn't be so lonely anymore. She nodded slowly, considering it. She'd save up enough money for a barn and some livestock. After that, everything would be okay.

She jumped when the door opened, a stony-faced cowboy headed her way.

Vaughn headed out, his head down to block the bright sunset's light from his eyes. He held the tip of his Stetson as a gust of wind blew by, his grip making sure it stayed on his head. He saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye and held back a sigh of annoyance. Then he noticed the new lamb in her lap and the two calves nuzzling their noses into her shoulders. He froze for just a second, surprised. She was _really_ good with animals… They seemed to sense that she was safe to be around—how interesting.

"Oh! Vaughn," Chelsea said, noticing him as he walked over. Her cheeks reddened as she shifted the lamb off her lap—she was obviously struggling to ignore its cries of protest—and stood, wobbling unsteadily as she pulled herself up. Vaughn rose an eyebrow at her. He hated himself as he realized it, but she'd earned some serious respect from him now that he knew that the animals trusted her. He was the kind of guy that trusted an animal's sense over a person's. Animals had better instincts.

"So… Vaughn," Chelsea started, her eyes fixed on Vaughn's face, "Why are you here?"

He frowned at her question. What did she mean, 'why are you here?' He was there because he had to be. His job called for it, so there he was—it was simple, but he wasn't about to explain that to her. It wasn't any of her business.

When he didn't answer, Chelsea spoke up again, saying, "Oh, that was a kind of weird question. I meant, why are you on the island? I know it's for your job—but, what I'm wondering is, why are you a livestock dealer? It seems like such a hard job to have, with all the traveling you do. Is that why? Do you like to travel? Or is it something else? Do you—"

"Shut up," Vaughn muttered, bringing his hand up to rub his forehead. "You're givin' me a headache."

"Oh." Chelsea said, her face heating up. She directed her gaze down at her boots, suddenly wishing that the ground might swallow her up right there so she wouldn't be able to annoy anybody anymore. Of course, Vaughn seemed to be the only person she annoyed, so she could easily fix that problem by ignoring him… But that was simply out of the question.

She looked back up at him, a new determination burning in her blue eyes. "Vaughn, I'm sorry I seem to annoy you so much, but listen. I'm trying to be your friend here. I don't want you to get headaches whenever I come around, and I don't want you to end up hating me, so if I'm really that unbearable, just tell me—but I really don't think I'm that bad. Granted, I am me, but still. I try to be nice. What's your problem, anyway? Why don't you… I don't know, talk? Smile? Have fun?"

"Why should I do any of that? I see no reason to—none at all." He replied quietly, his eyes locked on her face. He seemed to be seeing something else, something far away; something… sad. Something Chelsea could only guess at. She furrowed her brow at him, confused. She was about to open her mouth to ask him something—anything, really—but he snapped out of it immediately and walked hastily away, around the animal shop. Chelsea sighed, staring after him. He was one tough cookie. Now she knew that he had a reason for being so distant, so detached—the question now was what it was. What had happened to that tall, dark, quiet cowboy that made him so… so _Vaughn_?

Chelsea was going to find out, that was for sure. But she wouldn't pry it out of him—this was something that needed time and his own free will.

Vaughn sighed as he finished putting feed in the animals' bins. She was trying to be his _friend_. When was the last time someone had wanted to be _his_ friend? He shook his head. That girl was an odd one. She was odd, but she was right—about one thing, at least. She wasn't really _that_ bad. Vaughn knew that she was only trying to be nice… but he was so unused to being shown kindness that, quite frankly, he didn't know how to respond. He didn't know how he should feel about it. Should he try to be her friend, or not? He sat down, sighing once more. The sky had darkened to a deep purple and the thin moon was barely visible over the trees of the forest. An owl's call disturbed the silence of the night. He took off his hat and ran a gloved hand through his hair.

He wasn't sure he was ready for this.

* * *

**Oh, Vaughn. You silly, mysterious boy. What happened to him? Stay tuned--I might just let you know in future chapters.**

**Just a warning: the update times for this fic are going to be a bit spaced out until I get out of school at the end of May. I hope you lovely readers will stick around--I hate not being able to write, but I can't let my grades slip now! I'm so close to the finish line! Haha, yeah, right. Anyways, I can't wait to read what you thought of this chapter :3**


	9. What Was His Name Again?

**Wow, I wrote this faster than I thought I would. It turned out decently, with plenty of dialogue. I can't say you all are going to like what I have going on plot-wise, but... I dunno. Read and find out, I guess.**

**Oh, and a note: I found out that my three-asterisk-separation technique, the one I've been using to separate scenes and POVs, hasn't been showing up. This made it very confusing a some points during earlier chapters. I hope that it's working now, and I'm sorry about that.**

* * *

"Vaughn, man, are you feeling okay?"

The cowboy scowled over at Riley from across their bench on the deck. He just wouldn't stop bugging him, and it was annoying the hell out of Vaughn. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, blocking out the sun and—hopefully—his chatty friend.

"You don't seem to be as… talkative as you normally are." Riley added, smirking to himself. Vaughn rolled his eyes and turned towards his brown-haired coworker.

"Why d'you care, anyway?" He muttered, his face pulled down into a deep frown. Riley grinned cheekily.

"If _I_ don't care, who will?"

Vaughn blinked, the truth of this comment really striking him. He really _didn't_ have anyone else to care. Not that he needed anyone else, but… still. Ever since that last conversation with the farmer girl, he'd been, well, _distant_—even more so than he usually was—and Riley just had to notice. It was that girl. She made him remember everything he had worked so hard to forget.

"Vaughn? Man, I'm sorry—I didn't mean—"

"S'alright," Vaughn sighed, looking up at the overcast sky. He hated this. He hated being a slave to his memories—every day, year after year—until he forgot, that is. After that, he was able to live a bit less glumly. He'd learned his lesson and stayed away from people. He got a job that let him move around. He didn't talk to anyone unless he needed to—except for Riley, but that was a special case—and he was getting along fine like that.

Until _her_.

She just had to go and ruin it all. Why did she remind him of everything from back then? Why did he have to have been on the same ship as her all those weeks ago; why did he have to run into her in the city? And why, Goddess help him, did he have to be assigned the very same island that _she_ washed up on? Was fate playing with him? Was she tormenting him for a reason, or was it for her own sick enjoyment?

Why couldn't that girl _just leave him alone_?

"…Are you going to tell her?"

Vaughn snapped out of his daze at the idiocy of his friend's comment. He locked his icy gaze with Riley's, glaring daggers at his concerned coworker.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Riley," Vaughn sighed, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "You're the only one who knows. You of all people should understand—I ain't the kind to go telling people about myself. They don't give a shit."

"Are you sure about that? That girl you mentioned before, she seemed like she might care—if you gave her a chance to, I mean."

Vaughn frowned and looked out over the ocean, where the sun was already up and crawling into the middle of the sky. They would be docking at Flowerbud Village in a few minutes. Sighing, he shook his head slowly. Riley may have been right. He may not have. Vaughn wasn't sure he was willing to find out.

"Hello? Is anybody home?"

Chelsea looked over towards her door, shocked that someone would be visiting so early. She shoved the rest of her breakfast in her mouth and jogged over to the entry of her tiny house. Upon opening the door, she saw—she wasn't expecting this—a young man who, as much as she hated to admit it, was really quite handsome.

He somewhat resembled a pirate in his clothing choices, and he had a weird black bird perched on his shoulder. His face was bright with his smile—his tanned complexion seemed to radiate happiness. His overly-curly, dark hair was piled on his head and he kept it underneath a purple bandana.

That was probably why Chelsea thought him so attractive—she had a thing for bandanas, as embarrassing as it was for her.

"Hey there," the guy said, his eyes closing as his smile grew, "My name's Denny—I'm a fisherman. I heard there's some pretty gnarly fish to be caught here, so I moved in down at the beach!"

"Hi, Denny," Chelsea smiled. He was nice—she could see herself being his friend. "I'm Chelsea, and—as I'm sure you could figure out—I work this here farm."

"That's cool! Tell me, do you ever fish in your free time?"

Chelsea thought back to the old fishing rod Taro'd given her, and how she hadn't had the time or stamina to try it out, what with the rush of the summer harvest. She slowly—and somewhat regretfully—shook her head.

"I haven't had a lot of extra time lately. Maybe after the farm picks up…" She trailed off, wondering when exactly that would ever happen.

"Alright, alright. Whenever you have extra time, just come down to the beach—I'll show you how fishing's done!" He pumped his fist into the air as he finished, causing Chelsea to laugh at his enthusiasm.

"Sure, I'll come by sometime."

"Awesome!" He said, nodding, "Well, I'd better let you get going on your chores. I can't imagine running a farm by myself—you've got some guts."

Chelsea laughed, waving him off. "It's not that bad."

"I'll take your word for it. See you later!" He called, jogging down the path. Chelsea watched him as he stopped to wave, and, smiling, she waved back.

He was nice, she decided, a soft grin still on her face. She wondered if Julia'd met him yet—she'd definitely have to talk to her today.

"Julia!" Chelsea shouted, bursting into the animal shop.

Julia dropped the bag of feed she'd been moving and let out a screech as it hit the ground. She turned and glared at the farmer. "Goddess, Chelsea, you scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry, sorry," Chelsea said hurriedly, walking over to her blonde friend, "Julia—have you met the new guy yet?"

"Oh, you mean… What's his name? Darcy?" Julia said, picking up the feed. Chelsea rolled her eyes.

"_Denny_."

"Yeah, him." Julia nodded, shoving the bag onto a low shelf. "He came by a little bit ago. He seemed pretty nice. Why?"

"Oh," Chelsea stopped, sitting down at the nearby table in the kitchen, "I don't know—I was just wondering."

"Right." Julia replied, raising an eyebrow at her friend. She sat across from her at the table. "Spill, Chels. You like this guy, don't you?"

"Well, no…"Chelsea sputtered, her face heating up slightly, "I mean, I like his bandana."

"What's that supposed to mean? Is that, like, a code for something?" Julia asked, smirking, "And what about Vaughn?"

"What about Vaughn?" Chelsea asked, confused. What did he have to do with this?

"Well, you're always trying to talk to him…" Julia trailed off, eyeing Chelsea, waiting for her reason.

"I just—Well, um, it's different with him. He just seems like, I don't know, he needs a friend or something. Who could seriously want to be so alone?"

"I don't know, Chelsea. If I were you, I'd leave him be—he doesn't seem like the friendly type, if you catch my drift." Julia sighed, studying the table.

"Oh, come on, Julia," Chelsea frowned, "You don't even know the guy."

"And you do?"

"I'm _trying_ to! And when did we even start talking about _Vaughn_, anyways? I thought we were talking about—about—" Chelsea stuttered, faltering. What was his name, again?

"Denny?" Julia supplied. Chelsea sunk down in her chair.

"Yeah... Him."

* * *

**Oh, Chelsea. You and your bandana fetish. Ahaha, just kidding, guys! I hope I'll get another update in this month, but as of now, it's not looking so good--I actually have a ton of stuff I put off doing to write this. Including a ten-paragraph essay on HARVEST MOON. xDDD**

**Review and tell me what you think, please! xP**


	10. Slip and Slide

**Another update! I hope I'm making up for the month-long absence! This is a weird chapter, and I'm thinking that the fic is getting really depressing. Darn Vaughn and his stupid, plot-bunny-inducing, mysterious tendencies. Anyways, just know that the fic isn't meant to be angsty, and that it will get brighter in the future! xP**

**Oh, and I realized that my scene-separation-things _still _weren't showing up, so let's see if I managed to fix them this chapter. xD Enjoy!  
**

* * *

A loud crash sounded from outside—Chelsea shot up in her bed, an involuntary scream leaving her throat. She gasped into silence, her hand set on her startled chest. She didn't mind lightning and thunder, really. It was just that she was normally at home, with her family.

Or at least not alone on a nearly-deserted island of the coast of nowhere.

Sighing, she peeled the covers the rest of the way off her body and swung her feet onto the icy floor. She shivered slightly, wishing she'd brought her slippers when she left Mineral Town. As it was, however, she only had her one pair of pajamas, three identical sets of her normal outfit, and her bandana. Well, she had boots. And socks. And some underwear, too. Oh, yes, and some toiletries. But that was it.

She glanced at her nightstand, pursing her lips at the sight of her favorite picture. She saw her family back when she was younger. She saw how happy they were. She blinked as soon as she felt her eyes tear up, sending two salty drops streaming down her cheeks.

Suddenly, she gasped. She couldn't believe it—she was horrible! She'd forgotten to send a letter to her parents! And even after her ship went down, too… They probably thought she was—she swallowed hard at this thought, the word barely registering—_dead_.

She hurriedly searched her dark house for a scrap of paper and a pen, only to come up short. She didn't have _paper_? Really? Come on, it's _paper_, she thought, pulling at her hair in frustration. Who doesn't have _paper_? Another flash of lightning illuminated her windows, followed almost immediately by the loudest rumbling Chelsea had ever heard.

Screaming, she jumped back into her bed. This would be a long night.

**oooo0000oooo**

When Vaughn got off his ship on Wednesday morning, he could tell that the island had seen the worst of the previous weeks' storm. The path leading up into town was ankle-deep mud, and there were a few fallen branches pulled to the side of the paths. He brought his gaze down to his boots and sloshed his way up to the Animal Shop for work.

"Vaughn! Welcome back," Mirabelle exclaimed as he pushed through the door, a soft tickling of a bell ringing from above him, "I was worried that the storm'd gotten to your ship. It sure is a relief to see you here, safe and sound!"

He tipped his hat to her as he walked in. She smiled and told him to move some of the feed out and into the sun to dry a bit, as some of the inventory had gotten damp during the storm. He nodded once and ignoring Julia altogether, went out to work.

The sun was surprisingly bright in the autumn sky—Vaughn could hear a few birds chirping in a nearby tree. He might have smiled, if he had been the kind of person to do that sort of thing.

He immediately dropped that train of thought and started moving the huge bags of feed. He always shut down his mind whenever he started his work. And that pretty much all the time. Hell, he hardly ever just let his mind wonder. Whenever he did kit always seemed to make him just that much more unhappy. When he realized this, he'd thought that _unhappy _wasn't the best word to use—granted, he wasn't exactly happy, but his situation seemed like it begged a less… _overused_ word.

He was more than unhappy.

**oooo0000oooo**

Chelsea needed paper. She didn't sleep well last night on account of the storm. She was so incredibly tired, and all she could really get herself to do was go and find paper.

She had a letter to write.

She hurried down the path to town, nearly slipping in the mud. She spotted the Animal Shop and immediately decided to ask Julia if she had some parchment to spare. She noticed a certain cowboy lugging bags of chicken feed into the sun.

"Morning, Vaughn," she said quickly, nearly ripping the door to the shop off its hinges in her hurry to get inside. She didn't stick around long enough to see if he acknowledged her. She was too tired and too stressed to really care.

"Ah, Chelsea! How are you today?" Mirabelle beamed from across the counter. Chelsea slowed herself down enough to smile and speak civilly.

"I'm alright—Is Julia in?"

"Yes, she's in the back. Go on ahead," the woman smiled, shooing Chelsea off with one hand. Chelsea nodded and hurried into her best friend's room.

"Julia," Chelsea called, entering the small bedroom, "I need paper—and a pen!"

"Huh?" The blonde blinked, turning away from her magazine and frowning quizzically at the farmer, "What are you talking about?"

"I need to write a letter. _Now_."

**oooo0000oooo**

Vaughn walked across a newly-constructed bridge that seemed to lead to a very green, very damp forest. Apparently someone had paid for the bettering of the town since he was on the island last week. He stared up at the dark sky, noting that the sun had set earlier than he was expecting it to—the days were shortening with the coming of fall. He dropped the subject after that, as it wasn't very interesting. He didn't really feel like thinking.

So, naturally, his mind brought up one of his least favorite subjects these days—that farmer girl, Chelsea.

He frowned deeply as he ambled among the pine trees, still dripping from the previous nights' rain. He'd had another dream about her. Well, no—it wasn't really _about_ her as much as the fact that she was in it. He sighed through his nose as he remembered that dream. It really was more of a nightmare—a hellish re-visitation of his past, only with that girl thrown into the mix. He didn't like it. He _really _didn't like it.

"N-nice doggies… Wha—no! Uh, s-sit!"

Vaughn's ears perked up at the girlish shriek he heard from just up the path. Without thinking about it, he quickened his pace until he could make out a few dark shapes up a little way on the hill. He recognized two of these forms to be rather dog-like, and the other to be a person—a girl. Or a very feminine guy.

"Down," Vaughn called loudly, his voice powerful and authoritative. Immediately the dogs backed off a few feet, and soon they took off from the area. Vaughn stopped walking up the hill and was about to turn back, when the girl called out to him.

"Hey, wait! Thanks for—agh!" He could barely see her figure disappear from the path, and he could hear her yelp as she seemed to slip on the muddy path and land on her back. He started rolling his eyes, but couldn't finish before she slid right into his legs, knocking him off-balance. He teetered for a fraction of a second before falling down forward into nearly ankle-deep mud. Dazed, he blinked once and pushed up onto his hands and knees. In the span of another second or so, he realized that he had ended up falling on top of the girl, pinning her down in the mud.

And—surprise, surprise—it was Chelsea, the wonder-klutz.

He could clearly see her blue eyes just a foot away from his own, and they were growing wider by the millisecond. Her face was a very bright scarlet, although half-covered in mud; Vaughn could feel his face heating up as he really become aware of her body underneath his. He felt frozen, but he managed to move himself off of her and a good yard away from her in the longest few seconds of his life. He saw his hat lying face down in the mud and quickly put it back on his head. He pulled himself out of the mud quickly, fully prepared to leave, until he saw the girl struggling to stand without slipping. Sighing, he reached over and hoisted her up by the back of her collar—déjà vu—and pulled her to her feet. He left the forest without another look back.

The next morning, two sets of muddy footprints marred the wood of the new bridge.

* * *

**Aha, cheesy ending. I always have trouble writing sequences of actions--was it really confusing, what happened right there? Or did you get the gist of it? It was my attempt at fluff, which I'd say is decent considering Vaughn's currently-emo state of being. Anyways, next chapter is kind of a part II to this one, in that it wraps up what I couldn't fit in here. Review and tell me what you thought please Do you have any advice on writing action sequences? It'd be much, MUCH appreciated :3**


	11. Letters to Home

**Ahaha, update time! This one's pretty long (compared to the other chapters), but I like it this length. You could say it's kind of filler-ish, but I don't think so. Next chapter is going to be especially different, so stay tuned! I have finals tomorrow through Thursday, then I'm free! I'm also trying to finish this fic by the beginning of July, but that's not going to happen because I'm not even halfway through my plot. But, anyways, I hope you will enjoy this (dialogue-filled!) chapter and please, don't forget to leave a little review-I miss you guys! xP**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon or any of its characters.**

* * *

"Ugh, mud takes _forever _to wash out of hair," Chelsea muttered to Julia as she walked into the animal shop early the next morning. Julia rose a slender eyebrow at the farmer and pushed off the counter to greet her friend.

"Did something happen?" She asked, pushing a stray strand of her blonde hair out of her face. Chelsea grimaced, leaning back on the countertop. She glanced around briefly and turned back to Julia.

"Where's Mirabelle?"

"Hm? Oh, she's getting ready to visit the city. She's taking your letter out there, too, so don't worry about that," Julia explained, then quickly continued, "But what happened? What were you saying before about mud?"

Chelsea sighed, setting her hand on her bandana in an uncomfortable manner. "I just slipped yesterday in the forest. I got covered in mud."

"Oh, Chelsea," Julia sighed, shaking her head in mock defeat, "you're such a little klutz."

"Hey!" Chelsea put her hands on her hips, half-heartedly frowning at the blonde, "You know it's not my fault—It just happens, I swear!"

"Sure, Chelsea."

"I'm serious!"

"Yep, you are."

"Julia! You're s—"

The girls stopped their bickering abruptly as the door swung open, revealing a thoroughly pissed off cowboy storming inside. Julia and Chelsea stared at him as he walked inside, the wind slamming the door behind him. He scowled at the two of them.

"Y'all are annoyin' the hell outta me," he mumbled, glaring at them—especially at the farmer, whom he had no intention of ever seeing again after straddling her in ankle-deep mud—and making his way over to get some more fodder, added, "Can't you just shut up?"

Julia folded her hands across her chest and looked away from him in contempt, opting not to make a comment. Chelsea, on the other hand, was rather angry. She set her hands on her hips and glared back at him mercilessly.

"Why should we? It's not like you own this place. Heck, Mirabelle _does_ own this place and I don't hear her complaining," she pursed her lips, studying the man in front of her briefly before finishing. "Just buck up, cowboy."

Vaughn could practically feel steam coming out of his ears. His left eye twitched slightly as he took a slow, carefully planned step towards the equally-fuming farm girl. He glared down at her from his place approximately a half-foot taller than her. She looked up at him defiantly. He could see that fire in her eyes—that fire that said she meant business, the one that clearly stated how irritatingly obstinate this girl was about to prove herself to be. He frowned down at her, his anger slowly fading.

Looking at her straight in the eye, he whispered, "Only pick fights you're sure you can win."

She swallowed a frustrated scream as the cowboy grabbed his fodder and sauntered out the door, not leaving an extra second's time for her to retort.

Julia sat at the counter, watching with an amused smile.

**Ooo**

"So… what's with your cowboy? I thought you guys were getting along." Julia smirked at Chelsea later on in the afternoon over lunch in the kitchen of the shop. Chelsea rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I don't think you could ever consider us to be 'getting along.' More like, 'he's not acknowledging my existence and that's better than him glaring at me every time he sees me,'" Chelsea peeled her bandana off her head and studied it sadly as she continued, "And even that's becoming a stretch."

Julia smiled and set her hand on Chelsea's shoulder sympathetically. "Hey, chin up. You know he's not the nicest person—heck, he's downright mean. Why don't you go try to be Denny's friend or something? Or what about that one new girl—Lanna, I think her name is—seemed pretty nice."

Sighing, Chelsea gently shrugged Julia's hand off. "I don't know—I really thought that I could be his friend… I mean, he just seems so _sad_ and lonely—and—and I don't think that sounds like a nice life—so I wanted to get to know him, or… or… Ugh, I don't know!" She cried, throwing her hands up in defeat. Julia pursed her lips in thought.

"You know… maybe he doesn't want anyone to get to know him."

"Then that just makes it more of a challenge."

**Ooo**

Vaughn scattered the last of the chicken feed around the floor of the coop behind the animal shop and sat down on a crate, surveying the area. He watched as the chicks hopped around, fighting for some of the crumbs in the dirt. He remembered back to the previous day, before he'd gone out to the forest—he remembered when Chelsea had hurried into the animal shop, obviously worried about something. She'd looked horrible. And then she'd greeted him quickly, like they were already friends and she couldn't forget to say "hey" to him.

He stood up then, realizing he was _still_ thinking about that damn farmer. He really needed to get control over his mind again. He hadn't thought this much about someone in years. It was… confusing, to say the least. And what was he supposed to make of those damned dreams? This girl was taking over his mind—driving him insane.

She was taking over his world slowly but surely, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.

**Ooo**

Mirabelle got off her ferry in the city and scanned the area for a post office—she knew she needed to take care of Chelsea's letter first thing or she'd forget about it, and judging by the Chelsea's behavior regarding it before, she knew it was incredibly important that the letter be delivered as soon as possible.

She found a mailbox and shoved her way through the crowded sidewalk, wheeling her suitcase behind her. She dropped the white envelope addressed to Mineral Town into the public mailbox and made sure it was safely inside before heading down to her hotel.

**Ooo**

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_Okay, let me start off by saying something kind of important: I'm alive, and I'm so sorry. I really meant to write to you as soon as I got to Flowerbud Village, but… Well, that didn't really work out the way I was hoping it would._

_You see, my ferry from to the city from Mineral Town left really early in the morning, and everything was going great until I got to the city. It's crazy out there! I know that you guys both lived there before I was even born, so I don't need to describe it that much. I will say that I almost got flattened by this huge truck, but then this guy pulled me out of the way. He was pretty nice, but I never saw him. Oh! I also almost fell off the boat on the way to the city, but some other guy saved me that time. Wouldn't it be funny if it was the same person? Well, anyways, I got on my boat to go to Flowerbud after that and then there was this huge storm. It was so scary—I thought that I was going to die! But then I guess I fell off the ship or something and was knocked unconscious because I only remember waking up on a beach in the morning._

_There was this other family from on the boat who also ended up on the island with me. There's an old retired farmer named Taro (do you guys know him?) and his daughter, Felicia. Then she has two kids who are about my age: Natalie and Elliot. They're all really nice and helped me out. They decided to move onto the island, so when we found an abandoned farm, I volunteered to take it over. I've been living in the old farmhouse—which is actually pretty nice, if you get past the lack of most household items—and working the land, just like you do, Mom! It's a lot harder than I was expecting, but if I keep working at it, maybe it'll get better. Does it get easier, Ma? I hope so. Well, now I'm saving up for a barn and a cow. I'm a little lonely on the farm right now, so if I can get some animals I'll probably be better._

_I also have a best friend over here. Her name is Julia and she's the sweetest girl you'll ever meet. Her mom is also incredibly nice—her name is Mirabelle, and she runs the new animal shop on the island. After Taro's family and I moved in, Felicia contacted the city and now there's ships coming in and out of the island. We're getting more residents every day, it seems. There's a really nice fisherman named Denny who moved in, and he kind of reminds me of Uncle Kai. Then there's a retired pop star named Lanna who's obsessed with fishing and singing. Her and Denny would make a great couple, if you asked me. There's a bunch of others that I won't name. Well, I'll name one more—his name is Vaughn, and he's… mean. But I like him. I think that he's really nice if he'd just open up and talk to people. I mean, he does talk sometimes, but it's really only to tell people to be quiet or that they're annoying. He only comes in every Wednesday and Thursday because he's an animal dealer and he travels a lot, so I don't see him often, but I'm sure we'll be friends someday._

_Well, I've been writing for a long time and my hand is cramping up. Julia's whining about me using up all the ink in the pen I'm borrowing from her (I don't even have my own paper! How sad is that?), so I'll wrap this up. I'm not sure when I can come visit because money's pretty tight right now, but I'll come as soon as I can! Just don't worry because I'm alright, and I'll start another savings fund to come and visit you all. Tell everyone I miss them, okay? I love you guys more than anything in the world,_

_XOXOXO_

_Chelsea_

_

* * *

_**I hope you didn't get bored with Chelsea's crazy-long letter there. I couldn't decide whether or not to put it in this chapter or the next one. I opted for this one, obviously. Now, I have a question for y'all:**

**_How do you think Chelsea should befriend Vaughn?_**

**Give me your idea in a review and you may see it in an upcoming chapter of AH-with credit to you, of course! xP Thanks for reading guys, and here's to a shorter wait for updates in the future. x3**


	12. Barns, Clones, and World Domination

**Yohohohohohoho! Another update! I couldn't help it-I _had _to write it! I put off studying English and Science, though. But it's okay if I fail them. Ahahahaha. Anyways, I apologize if you guys aren't too familiar with Mineral Town or Forget-Me-Not Valley-I tried to make it as friendly to the IoH-only players as I could.**

**This chapter is dedicated to TheRandomArtist, because I haven't found the inspiration to write up her request for a Graire oneshot yet, and it's been months. This one's for you, and I hope you'll forgive me for being so fail-tastic with my promise-keeping skills!**

**ALSO: I found Vaughn's song. It's, like, written for him. Seriously. I put a link in the top of my profile. :B**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon or any of its characters.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

A tall man walked out of the farmhouse and into the foggy autumn day, stopping only once to look up into the sky and sigh. This had become a habit of his for the last season or so, and, after readjusting his cap, he set off for another day of work at the forge.

He was just about to round the corner off the farm when he noticed the flag up in the mailbox—he and his wife had some mail. He slowly turned and opened the small, red box, revealing a little white envelope with no return address, dampened slightly from its travels. He eyed it quizzically for a moment, wondering who on earth could have sent this—he was expecting another festival invitation from Mayor Thomas or maybe an advertisement from one of the local shops. Frowning, he tore through the top and pulled out the sheet of paper. He read only the first line before darting back into the house, calling for his wife.

**Ooo**

"Chelsea…"

Claire read her daughter's letter for the umpteenth time since Gray had run it inside. She could feel a new round of warm tears on her cheeks as she got further into the note. Gray was standing behind his wife, his arms wrapped securely around her—he hated it when she cried, even if it was in happiness, as with this case—as he read over her shoulder. Finally, Claire set the letter down and turned to face her husband, burying her face in his coat.

"She's alive," Claire choked, "Gray—our baby's _alive_."

Gray nodded and set his chin on her head. "She's stubborn like that."

Laughing, Claire broke away and met his gaze. "She got it from you."

He rolled his eyes. "I beg to differ."

Claire smiled at him—the first _real_ smile he'd seen from her since Chelsea's disappearance—and picked the letter back up. After studying the envelope for a minute or so, frowned slightly. "Gray, we still don't know where she is."

"I know," he sighed, walking over and gently taking the envelope, "And I can't help but feel that she did that on purpose."

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?"

"What can we do? We'll need to give her some more time, and not worry too much—And I know you have trouble with that." Gray smirked at the shorter woman standing next to him. She sniffed and wiped at her face with her sleeve, glaring up at him.

"Yeah, and you were _totally_ not worried, right? I saw you crying that morning after we didn't find her in the forest!"

Gray flushed, pulling his hat down and scowling at Claire. "That was… different."

"Mhm," she nodded, "_Sure_."

"Can we please remember that we have a daughter lost on an island miles away from here?"

Claire frowned deeply, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Well, the people she described seemed pretty nice… I suppose that if she's alright after a season, she should be okay for a little longer while we figure out just where that island is… If she gets into any real trouble, I'm sure that her friends will help her, right?"

Gray felt his face twitch slightly. "I don't know about that Vaughn guy she was writing about—he sounded like the kind of guy you stay away from. I don't want Chelsea hanging around with him. He seems… _dangerous_."

"Oh, Gray," Claire waved him off, laughing slightly, "He sounds like _you_ did when I first met you."

"Dear Goddess," Gray muttered, rolling his eyes, "let's hope he doesn't fall for her, for his sake."

Claire scoffed and thumped the back of her husband's head. He smirked at her and gave her a kiss, and she couldn't help but let his last comment slide.

**Ooo**

Vaughn sneezed into his arm as he got off his boat and walked onto the small beach of Forget-Me-Not Valley. He hurried through his work—there was always hardly anything to do here, and he was thankful. He hated this place. He was lucky that hardly any of the villagers ever acknowledged him, and most of them were all too young to know…

His work at this town lasted only about an hour and consisted of nothing but delivering feed and the occasional shipment of fertilizer to one of the farms. He always had nearly half a day to kill before his ship left for the city. Today was no different.

Sighing, he turned and started back for the beach, but he stopped abruptly as a petite woman in overalls ran straight into him. He took a step back and, seeing that she was probably old enough to be his mother, he tipped his hat to her in apology.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. She was old enough to remember…

"Oh! No, no—it was all my fault. Say, have you seen Celia or Marlin around here? I can't find them and I have some important news for them…" She trailed off, and he could feel her watching him as he stood there awkwardly.

He unwillingly looked up and locked eyes with her. He almost jumped back in surprise—it was _Chelsea_. But, no— it wasn't! This woman had blonde hair, and she was probably twice Chelsea's age. Vaughn certainly couldn't remember seeing this person before in Forget-Me-Not. She had the same eyes as Chelsea did, exactly—and their faces were so similar—what was this? Was he dreaming again? He pinched himself discreetly. Nope—he was definitely awake. But if he really was fully conscious, then who was this?

"Um… are you alright?" She asked, her eyes suddenly filled with worry. He'd seen that before, and it was unsettling.

"Yeah," he coughed, "they're at the inn, I reckon."

"Oh," she smiled, nodding in gratitude, "thank you—I'm Claire. I work the farm in Mineral Town."

Vaughn shifted uncomfortably. This woman was Chelsea's clone. There were Chelseas appearing all over the place, taking over the world. The Goddess hated him.

"I have to catch my boat."

And with that, he hurried around this 'Claire' person and high-tailed it out to the beach as fast as he could without receiving too much unnecessary attention.

Claire watched him as he left, very confused. "Did I say something wrong?"

Shrugging, she continued down the path towards the inn. She couldn't wait to let all her friends in Forget-Me-Not Valley the good news about Chelsea—and, also, to have them keep their eyes peeled for anything that may let them know where that island actually _was_.

**Ooo**

"Finally!" Chelsea exclaimed, counting her savings once more, "That's enough for a barn!"

Without wasting another second, she gathered up the money and raced down the path to Gannon's. He looked up at her in surprise as the door flew open.

"Hey, Chels," he grinned, recovering from his initial shock, "You're lookin' pretty pretty today."

Chelsea rubbed her neck in embarrassment and walked up to the counter. "Aw, jeez, Gannon. You flatter me."

"What can I help you with today?" He asked, leaning up against the counter. Chelsea smiled triumphantly and set her funds on the countertop.

"I'd like to have a barn built!"

* * *

**There you go! I liked this one. Vaughn thinks he's going insane, eh? xDDD Thanks for all your ideas regarding how Chelsea should woo Vaughn! They were all magnificent and brought numerous smiles to my face. I hope you stay tuned for the next chapter-it's going to start getting good pretty soon! x3**


	13. A Daisy and the Jungle

**Wow, I'm on fire or something. I will now laugh like-you guessed it, Cat-Brook. Yohohohohohohoho! :3**

**Here's another update. Ahahaha. This one's so mood-switchy. I love it! xDDDD**

**Thanks to _klara-kind_ for her idea regarding mushrooms! You'll see what I mean when you read the chapter. xP**

* * *

"Well, that should do it," Gannon said, swinging his axe up to rest on his shoulder. "She's ready for some animals."

"Yes! Thank you so much, Gannon!" Chelsea exclaimed, pumping her fist into the air. Gannon nodded and headed down the path in the early morning light, on his way back to his shop. Chelsea turned to beam at her brand-new, glorious barn and headed inside, inspecting the small wooden area. There were spaces for two animals and a fodder dispenser, along with a fresh coat of hay scattered around on the ground.

Chelsea counted in her head—she'd ordered the barn on Friday, and then Gannon couldn't start until Monday because of a surprise storm that blew in over the weekend, and even then it took him two days to finish in all the mud. It was Wednesday—the animal shop was open! Chelsea ran off the farm, slipping only once on the ever-muddy path, and flew into the shop. She came up to the counter and leaned against it, panting.

"…Did'ya need something, or are you just here to breathe up all the good air?"

Chelsea looked up, startled at the sound of a deep drawl coming from where Mirabelle's sweet voice usually was. Her eyes met those of a frowning cowboy, leaning back behind the counter with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Oh—uh, sorry—say, where's Mirabelle? Or Julia?" Chelsea replied, pushing off the counter and smiling slightly. Vaughn was actually speaking to her—and, to her delight, she found that he had a pleasant voice. She could listen to him talk for ages, but she highly doubted she'd ever get the chance.

"Old Taro called 'em out a while ago," he muttered, still frowning at her from under his Stetson, "Was there a reason you're here?"

"As a matter of fact, there is!" Chelsea beamed at him. He rose an eyebrow down at her as she placed the remainder of her savings on the counter. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, "I'd like to buy a cow, please—Oh, and some fodder!"

She watched him excitedly as he counted up the money. He turned around, picked up a large bag of fodder in one arm, and silently walked out the door. Chelsea stared after him—where on earth was he going?

After a moment, the door opened again, and Vaughn scowled in at her. "You coming?"

"Oh! Of course, of course! Sorry," Chelsea laughed, hurrying out the door and following the extremely annoyed cowboy around to the barn in the back of the shop.

"Which one?" Vaughn mumbled, staring at nothing. Chelsea stepped closer to the small group of baby cows, watching them carefully. One little brown one saw her coming and twitched its ear before ambling over to the farmer. Chelsea smiled in delight and patted the calf on its head. It looked up at her with wide, brown eyes and Chelsea knew that this was going to be her cow.

"Hey, there," Chelsea cooed, scratching the animal behind its ears, "What's your name?"

The cow let out a loud moo and Chelsea laughed. Vaughn wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too fascinated with the scene in front of him to spare the extra time. Chelsea got down on her knees in the hay and looked the calf in the eye, still petting its head.

"Daisy," she said, "Your name's Daisy."

Daisy licked Chelsea's hand, causing the farmer to let out another laugh. Standing up, Chelsea looked over to Vaughn, who immediately redirected his gaze anywhere else. Chelsea walked over and smiled triumphantly, gesturing towards Daisy.

"I'll take that one, please."

Vaughn gave her a curt nod and walked over to the little calf. He tied a rope around its neck and started to lead it out of the barn and up the path towards Chelsea's ranch. Chelsea had to skip to keep up with him, and by the time they reached the new barn, she was completely out of breath. Vaughn untied Daisy and let her into the barn and, after setting the fodder down near the door, turned to leave. Chelsea frowned slightly and followed him outside.

"Wait," she called, taking off her rucksack and opening it. Vaughn stopped and turned around.

"What?" He called back, not even trying to conceal his irritation. Chelsea walked up to him and handed him a small, clean mushroom. He eyed it for a second and looked back at her smiling face in confusion. "What's this?"

"A mushroom," Chelsea said. Vaughn rolled his eyes.

"I know that. Why're you givin' it to me?"

"Why not?" Chelsea retorted, her eyes shining with mischief. "I mean, I gathered too many this weekend, and so I figured it's better to give them away than to waste them. Besides, it's my thanks to you for helping me bring home my first cow."

Vaughn stared at her. "You really are an odd one, y'know that?"

Chelsea nodded cheerfully. "Yep!"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Vaughn left, still holding the mushroom securely in his hand.

**Ooo**

Later on that evening, Chelsea was exploring East Town and noticed another new bridge built on the north side. She looked curiously across it, seeing a rather dark jungle on the other side. Oh well, she thought, if they built a bridge over there, it must be safe.

So she walked slowly across the bridge and onto the overgrown, thick grass floor of the jungle. She walked down the narrow path and scanned her surroundings, in awe at all the overgrowth and colorful flowers. She'd never seen anything like this before. Carefully, she climbed over a large, dampened boulder in the middle of the path. She looked up and saw no sky—only a canopy of dark green. She frowned slightly and turned around. It was getting really dark out and she was getting the creeps. Her foot came up on a tree root hidden in the grass, and she was suddenly yanked to the ground.

"Ow…" She muttered, rolling up and into a sitting position. She looked at her leg and saw that she'd scratched it up pretty good on a small rock also hidden in the grass. She sighed and pushed herself up, wobbling slightly. She glanced around her shoulder, into the nearly-black jungle that was surrounding her—she felt like she was being watched.

Quickly, she went to follow the path back to the bridge. But… hold on. Where was the path? Chelsea searched the ground frantically, trying to remember which way she'd come from before she'd tripped. She looked around her, spinning in a slow circle. It was no use. She couldn't tell where she was.

She could feel her eyes start to water—this was just her luck. Chelsea the super-klutz strikes again. She survived being thrown of a boat and into the middle of a stormy ocean, only to get lost and starve in a tiny jungle. What a great way to go.

Just as Chelsea was about to start walking in any random direction, she felt something warm push up against her back—something _human_. Before she could even flinch, a cold blade pressed onto her neck, making her breath catch in her throat. She gasped slightly as an arm wrapped around her arms and torso, trapping her.

"You dinner," a husky voice said from directly behind her, sending a wave of fear crashing throughout her entire body, "I now eat good."

Just as her throat went totally dry, Chelsea let out one loud, blood-curdling scream before she passed out.

* * *

**Oh, how random that ending was. Cliffhanger? Yes-my first one in AGES. Let's see if I can keep up with the updating, hm? I don't want to keep you all on your toes for too long ;)**

**Review and tell me how you like Vaughn's new, suddenly-chatty self! xP  
**


	14. Girls Are Good

**Sorry! A whole week's wait for this one, and I'm on summer vacation! How weird, eh? Well, this one is a turning-point in the story. I do hope you enjoy it. Oh, and, by the way, my keyboard sometimes doesn't pick up when I type a letter (especially "w"), so if there's a ord that makes no sense or isn't spelled correctly, it's my lack-of-editing and my keyboard's fault! :3**

**I don't own Harvest Moon~**

**Enjoy, and thanks so much for your wonderful reviews! :D**

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The bright autumn moon was climbing its way higher and higher into the dark sky. Vaughn glanced up at it as he inspected the new bridge over in West Town, the moon illuminating everything with a pale glow. He looked across the bridge, seeing nothing but thick trees. The moon couldn't light the path through the leaves, so he decided to head back to Mirabelle's and check the jungle out some other time. It wasn't that important, he thought, turning to leave.

That was when a chilling scream met his ears, sending a shiver down his spine. He felt a faint recognition—he knew that voice. He glanced back over his shoulder in the direction the sound had come. Shaking his head, he took off over the bridge, cursing his damn conscience all the way.

He jumped over a few boulders and weaved through some trees, hoping he'd remember his way back. He saw a clearing up ahead, where the moon could shine all the way to the jungle floor. He could make out a shadow…

He slowed down to a walk as he entered the small, tree-less area, scanning all around him. His eyes fell on none other than Chelsea… out cold. With a knife held to her throat. In the arms of some freaky-looking native.

"Hey," Vaughn growled at the man, "What the _hell_ do you think you're doin'?"

The man looked at him and frowned innocently. "Shea hungry, so I get food."

Vaughn narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You're gonna eat _her_?"

Shea nodded, confused. "Yes… Is it no good for eating?"

"No," Vaughn sighed in frustration, bringing a gloved hand up to rub his forehead, "You don't _eat_ girls, kid."

"_Girl_?" Shea repeated, frowning at the foreign word. "What's that?"

"Girls are," Vaughn paused, thinking, "Y'know… Like us, but more… insane."

"Girls good?"

"Yes. Girls're good. Just not for eating."

Chelsea stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. Vaughn watched in mild amusement as confusion washed over her face, then recognition, then horror. She wiggled under Shea's grip, trying to get free. He let her go immediately and she dropped to her knees. Without wasting a moment, she scrambled up and ran behind Vaughn, clutching his vest tightly in her shaking hands. Vaughn glanced at her over his shoulder, surprised. She had her eyes shut tightly, trusting that he would protect her. With a sigh, Vaughn rolled his eyes and turned around, pulling Chelsea's hands off his back. He set his hands on her shoulders and silently guided her out of the clearing and into the darkness. Her trembling didn't stop until they were almost at her farmhouse.

Vaughn brought her up to her doorway and took his hands off her shoulders. He turned to leave, but Chelsea turned around and caught his wrist. He looked back at her nervously, not knowing what she could possibly want to say. She met his gaze, her eyes spilling tears down her dirty face. She took a shaky breath and flung herself at Vaughn, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He stumbled back, shocked. She buried her head in his chest.

"Thank you," she mumbled, "You saved me… again."

Vaughn could feel his face heat up. His heart was going a mile a minute. He _really_ wanted to leave… but, at the same time, he _didn't_. That just made him very confused. He glanced around, looking anywhere but down at the annoyingly adorable girl clinging to him. Hold on—_adorable_? Goddess help him, he was losing his mind! Now he wasn't just nervous, uncomfortable, and confused—he was panicked. He slowly reached around his back and peeled Chelsea's small hands away from him. Once he was freed, he took a step back, for safety reasons. Chelsea studied the ground for a moment, and Vaughn was afraid he'd made her cry or something—which was weird, because he never gave a crap about anybody, ever—but then she looked up at him. She was smiling at him—he was almost getting dizzy from all the blood rushing up to his face.

He finally got a hold of himself and tipped his hat to her before getting the hell off that crazy farm.

**Ooo**

Vaughn's Thursday was spent doing as much work as Mirabelle would let him and then avoiding that damn, insanity-inducing farmer. He really did _not_ want to deal with her. He never did, really, but he _especially_ didn't after what had happened the previous night. He wanted to go back to being able to live weeks at a time before anything of importance came into his head. He wanted to go back to not feeling anything. He wanted… Goddess, he didn't know _what_ he wanted—nothing seemed very appealing at the moment.

"Vaughn, dear, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Mirabelle asked from behind the counter, "You've already done more than necessary, and you must have some things you want to do on the island before your ship comes in."

Julia laughed from the kitchen. "Ma, he's avoiding someone. Can't you tell?"

Vaughn scowled at the blonde, who smirked back at him. Mirabelle looked quizzically at the cowboy. "Vaughn? Did something happen?"

Sighing in frustration, Vaughn brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "No ma'am."

Frowning, Mirabelle walked over to him. "You know you can talk to me, right, dear?"

Vaughn could have laughed humorlessly at the woman. Really, he could have. What did she know? He couldn't tell her anything. That was a fact. She didn't want to hear it—no one ever did. He'd accepted that a long time ago. He didn't ask for anything more. He'd been able to have it all bottled up inside him for all these years, and he wasn't planning on pouring it out any time soon.

"…Yeah," Vaughn replied, his face stoic. Mirabelle smiled, but she was still worried about him; he could tell. A cool, late-autumn breeze blew in through the window, and Vaughn saw that the sun was already setting. He briefly nodded his goodbyes and grabbed is small pack, headed for the beach to wait for his boat.

**Ooo**

Chelsea stood on the beach, her boots in her hand, the water coming up and tickling her toes. She looked up and felt the cool ocean air wash her face. She looked out at the reddening sky over the dark blue sea, smiling slightly. She missed home more than anything, but being here on the beach… it was just like back in Mineral town. The wind blew by again and she laughed as the tide came in some, covering her feet. Her bare legs were sticky from the salty air, and her hair as tangled from the breeze. She saw a ship approaching on the horizon, and then, as if on cue, a pair of footsteps in the sand could be heard behind her. She smirked as their owner hesitated, but reluctantly came up to a stop nearby. Chelsea looked over at him, only slightly embarrassed at her actions from the night before. She figured that what was done was done, and whatever happened, happened.

"Hey," she nodded, still watching the ship grow in the distance.

Vaughn made no answer. He simply stood, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Chelsea kept her soft smile.

"I like to feel the sand beneath my feet," Chelsea said, wiggling her toes, "It reminds me of home."

Vaughn still didn't say anything. Chelsea continued, laughing slightly.

"I don't really know what I'm doing here. I'm not fooling anyone."

Vaughn turned to look at her full-on at this statement. Her eyes were distant, her smile melancholy. She didn't turn her head to look at him. He didn't have anything to say. After several minutes, Vaughn's ship was at the dock. He picked up his bag and slowly started down the dock. Chelsea stared after him.

"Sorry about last night," she said, making him stop, "and I hope you have a safe trip."

Vaughn turned his head and tipped his hat over his shoulder, and then boarded the ship. She stayed on the beach for a long while after that, watching his boat disappear and seeing the stars appear. She didn't leave until her feet were numb and the moon had been hung up in the sky, lighting the pathway home.

* * *

**Tsk, tsk. Looks like Chelsea's feeling a bit nostalgic. And emo. Ahahaha, I hope she feels better soon :P**

**Review with your comments on Vaughn's mental health, please! :D**


	15. Breakthrough

**Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, I had my first bout of writer's block for this fic, and I think I may have written myself into a corner here. Ah, well. I'll figure it out eventually.**

**As a side note, I finished reading Pride and Prejudice and I LOVE DARCY. Anyone else out there? He kind of reminded me of Vaughn, but at the same time, not so much. I dunno, I can kind of see Vaughn having a "quizzical brow" with a "brooding" personality... xD**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy this little chapter! And thanks for your reviews! They all make me smile :3**

* * *

It was one of those lazy mornings, when there was a thick fog looming outside and there was nothing to do but curl up under the covers and get another twenty minutes of sleep.

Chelsea, however, was unable to partake in such pleasure. She marched out of her farmhouse at six on the dot, ready to tend to her crops. It was almost time for the fall crop festival, and Chelsea was determined to win with her best eggplant. She'd planted a new patch and paid special attention to it just for this occasion.

As she trudged into the mist, her bare legs growing numb from the almost-winter chill, she couldn't help but smile. She really did enjoy farming—in fact, she _loved_ it. It was a shame that she just wasn't very good at it. Her performance in the summer had shown her that much. She did feel that she'd improved tremendously over autumn, but she wasn't sure why. It could have been that she was getting more comfortable with her surroundings, or maybe even the fact that she was making more friends. Either way, she was almost pleased with the result.

After tending to her fields of crops, Chelsea stood up and headed over to the barn. She greeted Daisy with a warm smile and a gentle pat on her flank.

"Hey, Daze," Chelsea said, pulling out her brush, "how was your night?"

Daisy turned and looked at her owner in response. Chelsea laughed slightly, heading over to get some fodder.

"Mine was alright, thanks for asking." She gently placed the hay into the feed bin. Wiping her hands on her shorts, she smiled down at the calf again. "Well, I'll see you later tonight. I hope you grow up to be big and strong, Daisy!"

With that, Chelsea skipped out of the barn, leaving Daisy staring after her.

**Ooo**

"Hey, Chelsea!"

Chelsea whipped her head around, scanning her farm for the source of the voice. She spotted a purple bandana making its way up the hill to her in the field and a smile broke out on her face.

"Hi, Denny," She waved, wiping her forehead off with the back of her hand. She'd been pulling weeds all morning. Denny walked up to her and laughed.

"Working hard?"

"You bet," Chelsea laughed with him, pushing herself off of her knees. "So, what's up?"

"Lanna and I are going to head out on my boat today to do some fishing, and she suggested we invite you—she said she wanted to get to know you more, 'cause you guys don't talk much." He finished, shrugging. Chelsea pursed her lips thoughtfully. She didn't mind getting to know Lanna and Denny better, but by going fishing? She wasn't sure she was up to a whole day of something she had no idea how to do. Chelsea brought her gaze back up to Denny's, smiling apologetically.

"I'd love to get to know you all better, but the truth is, I've still never fished before in my life."

Denny frowned at her. "Aw, it's easy! C'mon, we can show you how—it'll be fun."

Chelsea knew she couldn't say no to that determined look in his eye. Sighing, she nodded reluctantly. "Okay, but I'm not the most coordinated person. This could end badly—consider yourself warned."

"Alright! Thanks, Chels—come on down to the beach around noon. We'll show you the ropes." Denny beamed, waving as he started back down the path. Chelsea feigned a smile and, as soon as he disappeared into the town, she checked her watch.

"Eleven o'clock already?" She exclaimed, jogging into her house. She needed to clean up and change into something warmer for this.

**Ooo**

"Chelsea!"

The blonde-haired pop star flung herself onto the poor farmer, causing them both to stumble in the sand of the beach later that day. Denny laughed at Chelsea's bewildered face. Lanna unlatched herself from Chelsea and smiled up at her. Chelsea grinned uneasily back.

"Hey, Lanna… How're you?"

Lanna giggled, spinning around on one foot. "I'm great! Are you ready for some fishing?"

"Sure." Chelsea bit her lip, studying the little boat Denny was waiting in. She swallowed hard, suddenly remembering her last voyage on the sea. Panicking slightly, she walked over towards Denny, her eyes urgent. "Oh, no! Denny, I forgot—I, uh, I don't have a fishing pole! I think I may need to sit this one out."

Lanna cried out in protest, and Denny shook his head, smiling. "You aren't getting off the hook that easy. I brought you one of my extras, because you told me back when we met that you didn't have one."

Chelsea watched in despair as Denny pulled a black rod off of the floor of the boat. Before she could form another excuse, Lanna had skipped ahead of her on the dock to get into the small sea vessel. Sighing, Chelsea followed, stumbling as she tried to climb into the little ship.

There is no way that this can end well, she thought, watching as Denny guided them out onto the gray sea.

**Ooo**

"So, how was the island this week?"

Vaughn brought his attention off of his newspaper to glare at Riley. "What d'ya mean?"

"You know what I mean. Did anything interesting happen with that girl while you were on Sunny Island?" The coworker restated, his eyes dancing. Vaughn rolled his eyes, but didn't snap at him, much to Riley's surprise. Instead, he set the paper down on the table between them and removed his hat.

"She's so damn confusing," Vaughn muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd had another one of his nightmares last night and subsequently lost too much sleep. His head was killing him.

"Why?" Riley asked, leaning forward. This was a first—Vaughn never admitted to any feelings aside from irritation or anger. Riley was jumping at the chance to help out his friend, now that he had the chance.

"T'hell if I know," Vaughn scowled, his eyes shut tightly, "If I knew that, she wouldn't be confusing me!"

"That's true." Riley agreed, and, not wanting to drop the subject, added, "Do you care if she confuses you?"

"What the hell kinda question is that? Of _course_ I care! I don't want her goin' and messin' with my mind!" Vaughn shouted. "Goddess, she's drivin' me _insane_."

Riley smirked. "So she's already dug that deep, huh? Tell me, Vaughn: do you think you'd be better off if you never saw her again?"

Vaughn scowled, wanting to brush off the question, but his mind wouldn't let him. He thought about how annoyed she made him and how many problems she'd brought on. But then he thought about how she actually made an effort to talk to him, and, as much as he hated to admit it, how much he liked seeing her smile. She was the only one in quite some time to try to get to know him, and he didn't really mind it much—in fact, he kind of liked it… and if he never saw her again, he'd probably be disappointed.

Goddess, he hated himself at that moment.

"Shut up, Riley," Vaughn mumbled, putting his hat back on. Riley smiled smugly, knowing they'd just made a breakthrough.

* * *

**GASPZ! VAUGHN ISH SLOWLY REALIZING TEH TRUTHZ.**

**...Ahahaha. Anyways, I'm a bit stuck on what Chelsea, Denny, and Lanna should do out on their little voyage... I have a little idea, but I don't think it would work out. Any suggestions? Thanks for your review! :D**


	16. Gone Fishing

**Yosh! Update! So much has happened since the last chapter, ahaha. Has anyone heard of Anime Expo in LA? I went down there on the 2nd and 3rd of this month, and I cosplayed as Harvest Moon's own librarian, Mary. Only a few people knew who I was, but one of the guys in Artist's Alley gave me a free pin with Jack on it and the word "Turnips" because I was representing such a small fandom :3**

**Also, a big thing: I ordered a proof copy of a compilation of my fanfiction a few weeks back, and now I have it! Ahaha, I'm such a spaz... I'll put a link to its picture in my profile, in case anyone is curious xD**

**Anything else...? Hm, let me think... Oh, yes: for those readers who recognized my Brook laugh a few chapters back in the A/N, you'll appreciate this. I hugged a Sanji and an Ace cosplayer at Anime Expo! I was so happyyyy~ I have a picture! :3**

**Anyways, on with the story! xP**

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"So, Chelsea, how's the farm been? You smell like it's doing well!"

Chelsea pulled her gaze off of the ocean to study the pop star across from her. Was that an insult? Denny snickered, casting out his line once more. He'd already caught half a bucket of fish, while Chelsea hadn't even felt a tug.

"Uh, the farm's doing well… I just bought my first cow a little bit ago, and she's doing fine."

"That's great! But," Lanna paused, reeling in a puny fish. She threw it back, and continued, "You know, you have such a pretty face. You really should have considered show biz—you would have done _so_ well!"

"Th-thanks…" Chelsea sputtered, growing uncomfortable. Talking with Lanna had always been a less than pleasant experience. It wasn't that she was a bad person; it was just that everything she said was a compliment that seemed to have a hidden insult.

"Hey, Lanna, will you watch the pole for a bit while I put down the weights? We're far enough out to stop here," Denny called, holding his fishing pole out for Lanna. The blonde stood and half-skipped over to him, smiling as she took the rod.

"Sure thing, Love."

Hm. Intreresting. Were these two going out? Chelsea rose her eyebrows to herself. If she didn't feel awkward before, she sure did now.

"Oi, Chelsea, looks like you've got a bite!"

The farmer blinked back into reality as she felt the pole in her hands tug away. Tightening her grip instinctively, Chelsea tried yanking back on the line. It pulled back harder, surprising Chelsea as she put her feet up against the side of the boat to get some more leverage. The battle continued for a few moments more, draining the poor girl of her strength. Denny came over curiously—this must have been one tough fish to put up such a fight. Out of the corner of her eye, Chelsea saw his purple bandana.

"D-Denny! This isn't—!" Chelsea shrieked as the fish pulled hard on the line, making her loose her balance. Lanna gasped from across the boat as the farmer lost her grip and tripped over the side. Denny reached out to grab her shirt, but he was a second too late—he watched in a petrified shock as her red bandana was swallowed by the gray waves.

"Chelsea!"

**Ooo**

Vaughn felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up suddenly. He pushed out of his chair, scanning the room urgently—_something_ was happening, but what?

"Vaughn? What's up, man?"

The cowboy looked down at his surprised friend, who was still sitting at their table in the small restaurant. Shaking his head, Vaughn sat back down and mumbled under his breath. "Something happened."

"Hm? _What _happened?" Riley asked, frowning. Vaughn continued to shake his head.

"I don't have the slightest idea."

"Huh?"

"I've got this bad feeling in my gut, and I don't like it." Vaughn sighed, pulling his hat down over his face. Riley rose an eyebrow at him questionably.

"Whatever you say, man."

**Ooo**

Chelsea could feel herself being tossed amongst the waves, but for some reason, she couldn't find it in her to fight them. They threw her around like she was a baseball, but she didn't really mind it. It almost felt good. They rocked her and pulled her deeper down into a darkness she'd never seen before, and she felt like she might be able to welcome it—but she didn't _want_ to. She wanted to swim back up to the surface, to go back to her farm, but she couldn't. The icy water soaked her to the bone and she could no longer feel her feet.

Her eyes shut tightly as she saw her parents, sitting at the table back at home. She could see her few almost-friends in Mineral Town, hanging out at the beach. She saw her new farm blooming with crops. She saw her new friends all joking around and laughing in the meadow.

She saw her life flash before her eyes. Wasn't that something that happened before you died? Chelsea couldn't remember. She vaguely wondered where that guy who kept saving her on her way to the island was. She could really use his help right about now. Or that other guy who'd saved her before… where was he? Where was Vaughn? Chelsea opened her eyes. The salt stung, but she didn't care. She looked up towards the far-away light, waiting for him to come. She was pathetic, always getting herself into these situations and not being able to get herself out… but he didn't need to keep saving her if he minded that much.

Suddenly, the light above her was obstructed and the waves broke apart for a moment as someone jumped in. Chelsea smiled faintly as she drifted off. He'd come for her, just like she was hoping. Vaughn would save her once again…

As she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, the darkness swallowed her.

**Ooo**

"Chelsea! Chelsea, are you okay? Say something!"

"C'mon, Chelsea, wake up!"

She felt a light sprinkling of rain falling on her skin as she creaked her eyes open. Her tired gaze was soon met by two incredibly relieved ones. Chelsea sat up slowly, noticing that the boat was very close to shore. Oh, and that she was actually _on_ the boat.

"You're okay! Oh, Chelsea, you scared me so bad!" Lanna squealed, pulling Chelsea into a clumsy hug. Chelsea coughed suddenly, causing the blonde to pull away quickly.

"What… happened?" Chelsea asked, frowning as she tried to piece together her thoughts. "And where's Vaughn?"

"Vaughn?" Denny repeated, shaking his head in confusion. "It's Sunday, Chelsea."

Chelsea furrowed her brow. "But… that doesn't make any sense… What happened?"

Lanna frowned down at the puzzled farmer. "You fell overboard, and then Denny dove in to get you when you didn't resurface… You were unconscious when he brought you back up."

"Oh." Chelsea muttered, her face starting to burn slightly at her mistake. Of course Vaughn wasn't the one who saved her—he didn't care! Besides, he wasn't even on the island…

Lanna's face colored slightly as she continued. "Denny had to give you CPR—turns out you took in a lot of water, Chelsea."

Chelsea could hear the blood rush into her face as she bowed her head in shame. "I'm sorry I was so much trouble! I-I never really learned how to swim, so—"

She was interrupted by Denny's laughter. "Relax, Chelsea. It wasn't your fault—in fact, I really should have had everyone wear life vests… Or, better yet, _asked_ if you actually knew how to swim."

Chelsea looked up at him. "Thanks… for, uh, saving my life and… uh, stuff."

He laughed again, waving her off. "No problem, Chelsea."

"Can you make it back to your farm okay?" Lanna asked, her face returning to its normal color. Chelsea smiled slightly.

"I think so," she stood up, wobbling slightly, "Thanks again, guys. I… uh, had a lot of fun…"

"Yeah, sure." Denny chuckled, waving, "See you later, Chels."

**Ooo**

"What is wrong with me?" Chelsea muttered to herself as she collapsed onto her bed later that evening. She couldn't believe she'd actually almost died—again. And then she had to be stupid enough to think that _Vaughn_ of all people was the one who's pulled her out of the water when he wasn't even on the boat with them, let alone within a dozen miles of the island! And she'd made Denny go into the icy water to save her, too… He even gave her mouth-to-mouth. Dear Harvest Goddess, she would never live this one down.

"I'm such an idiot…" Chelsea whined, turning onto her back and staring at her blackened ceiling. She was always getting into trouble, always getting saved. Since she got to the island, she'd had too many klutzy moments to count. That time in the forest, when the dogs started to threaten her, and she ended up underneath Vaughn was a prime example. Her face heated slightly at the memory and she frowned. Maybe that was the reason she was expecting Vaughn to be the one to save her—he was always there when she almost died, so why would that time be different? In the forest, in the jungle, in the city—

Woah, Chelsea thought, stop right there. _The city_?

She thought back to her experience on the ship to the city, and that guy who'd saved her from falling over the railing. He had a really strong grip, just like Vaughn's grip when he'd pulled her out of the mud in the forest. And then the guy in the city, the one who'd yanked her out of the way of the semi-truck… He'd told her to watch where she ended up, because she'd almost gotten run over, and he sounded _exactly like Vaughn_. Chelsea gaped into the darkness.

"Oh my Goddess."

* * *

**Longer chapter. I hope you didn't think it was too dramatic... I mean, she was about to die. If there is ever going to be a time to be dramatic, it's then. Granted, she has almost dies too many times to count, but... Agh, whatever. She just has very bad luck, okay? xP**

**Was this chapter alright? I really hope it was okay, because things are about to get a little crazy up in here. You all better strap yourselves in—we're about to take a ride on the Super Angst Coaster! :D**

**Oh, darn it, I've said too much. Just... stay tuned for the next update, okay? It'll all be explained then :B**


	17. Feeling

**Ahahaha, it's been, what, two weeks? A bit more? I'm sorry for the wait on this one, guys. It turns out that when I discover something as epic as Fullmetal Alchemist, I get momentarily obsessed and develop writer's block. Well, I decided to write this one while I wait for MegaVideo to let me watch another episode of Brotherhood, and I think it turned out intensely unlike it was supposed to. I'm afraid Vaughn may have grown a bit OOC... well, OOC for this fic, anyways. But, hey, it's chapter sixteen (or seventeen?) now. He should be able to talk to Chelsea like a normal human being Dx**

**Let me know if Vaughn seems a bit too much like Edward Elric and I'll rewrite this one. But I really don't want to. I like it the way it is xP**

**ANYWAYS... I just have to ask: does anyone else here think that Ed is intensely sexy, or is it just me? Of course, Vaughn is sexy, but we all knew that. It's a shame he doesn't have automail...**

**Wow, I'm sorry, guys. I think I need to sleep or something. It's after four in the morning here, ahahaha. I'll just let you get on with this. Enjoy~**

* * *

Vaughn scowled at the air as he marched off the boat and onto Sunny Island. It was still very early on Wednesday morning and he wasn't happy. Ever since that odd incident at the restaurant on Sunday, Vaughn couldn't seem to get his mind to calm down. He had this little nagging feeling in his gut and it wasn't going away. Something had happened, and even though he didn't know what it was, he had a feeling that damn farmer had something to do with it. She always seemed to have something to do with everything these days.

"Hey, Vaughn! Welcome back!" Denny called as he left his shack. Vaughn shot him a death-glare for no real reason. Denny managed to shrug it off, noticing how especially hostile the cowboy seemed that particular morning.

Vaughn continued to stomp down the pathway in an irritated manner. He continued past the animal shop and, without skipping a beat, walked up the hill to Chelsea's farm. Growling slightly to himself, he stepped over to the door and placed three loud pounds on its worn, oak surface. He was getting some answers, damn it.

"Just a second!" He heard a muffled voice call from the other side. He heard a few light footsteps, followed by a rather large crash. He rose his eyebrows as the farmer let out a few choice words, surprising him with her vocabulary. Perhaps he'd been rubbing off on her. The door flew open then, revealing a very frazzled brunette with a bleeding arm. She looked up at her visitor in irritation, but her face seemed to take on a delighted warmth when she saw who it was.

"What the hell'd you do to your arm?" Vaughn asked, seeing a small trail of crimson making its way slowly from her shoulder downwards. She winced some before heaving out a heavy sigh.

"I was washing my dishes from breakfast when you knocked on the door, and then I went to set the plate down, but I tripped and it broke…" she trailed off, her face flushing. "I guess I managed to cut my shoulder on some of the glass."

"You idiot," Vaughn muttered, trying to ignore the guilt in the back of his mind, "D'you at least have any bandages or somethin'?"

"Yeah," Chelsea said, stepping back into her house, "and you can come in, if you'd like."

After a half-second's hesitation, Vaughn found himself walking into the little, run-down farmhouse. He scanned the room briefly, noticing a small table near a make-shift kitchen, a bed in the far corner, and a little area with a couch, bookcase, and fireplace over in another corner. It was an incredibly small space, and it seemed almost as cold inside as it was out. For a split-second, Vaughn wondered if she'd be warm enough for the remainder of winter.

By that time, Chelsea had retrieved a small first-aid kit and was rolling up her sleeve to fix the cut. She struggled to reach around herself with her other arm and get a good look at what she was doing. Vaughn could have laughed at her. She almost looked adorable—the way she had her tongue sticking out in concentration made her seem like a little girl. Shaking his head, Vaughn walked over and took the antibiotic ointment from her. She frowned as he started cleaning her wound. She couldn't see his face because of his hat, and for once, she was glad. She was getting tired of being so clumsy all the time. It was humiliating, to say the least. Now she'd gone and cut her arm, and he was helping her even though she annoyed him so much. It was probably things like this that made him hate her, she thought.

Sighing, she felt her cheeks heat up. He was nicer than anyone gave him credit for. They all said that he was mean—that he was _dangerous_. They said she should stay away from him, but the truth was, she'd be dead if it wasn't for him. He was probably the safest person she knew. Oh, the irony.

"What happened on Sunday?"

Chelsea's eyes widened and she snapped her gaze over to Vaughn's hat. How did he know…?

"Wh-what?"

"Did anything happen Sunday?" He muttered out, wrapping a bandage around her upper arm. She grimaced; this was not a story she had wanted to tell him.

"Uh, I went fishing with Denny and Lanna out on Denny's boat." She mumbled, her face pink. Vaughn looked up at her as he finished with the bandage, his eyes narrowing. This didn't sound good to him. Too many bad things could happen out on the ocean, and Chelsea was klutzy enough to make any of them possible.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what happened then?"

Chelsea raised her eyebrows, her face flushing even more. "S-since when do you care what I do? You're never this interested…"

Vaughn felt his left eye twitch. He hated that she was right, but he just had to know. "Are you gonna tell me?"

Bowing her head, Chelsea sighed resignedly. "I may have accidentally gotten pulled into the water…"

"Can you swim?"

"…No."

Vaughn stood up suddenly, glaring down at the farmer ferociously. "Damn it, Chelsea! You're too frickin' _klutzy_! What happened then? Did—"

He stopped himself there, seeing Chelsea's frightened look. It froze him to his core. He'd seen that look before—he knew it all too well. He realized how he'd been acting. It was all too familiar… Chelsea's quiet voice shattered his painful reverie.

"Denny managed to save me, Vaughn. I guess I took in a lot of water because he had to resuscitate me," she paused and Vaughn twitched again. After a moment, she looked up at him with tired, misty eyes. "I'm sorry I'm such a bother!"

Vaughn stared her down for a while, not entirely comprehending what was going on. He didn't understand this girl. He'd been worrying about her. He'd been dreaming about her. He'd been thinking about her more than he'd thought about anyone else in a long while, and at first, he was sure that he hated her for it. But now, standing there, his stoic eyes staring into her exhausted ones, he realized that she'd done something that no one else had managed to do—and she hadn't even been trying.

She made him _feel_ again.

She made him feel annoyed and angry at first, like everyone else had. But then she made him feel things like worry, guilt, and the most foreign: content. It had been fleeting at first, something he wasn't even sure of, but he actually almost felt happy when he saw her smile, and he was just realizing it.

Oh, Goddess, he thought. This wasn't something he'd bargained for.

"Look," Vaughn said, sitting down wearily. Avoiding her gaze, he continued, "I'm… sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

Chelsea smiled slightly, catching his attention. "It's okay. I think I needed a good slap in the face, y'know?"

Vaughn winced at her choice of words and stood up, adjusting his hat. "Well, I'd better get going. We both have work to do."

"Wait," the farmer said, standing up, "I wanted to ask you something…"

Vaughn turned towards her, waiting while she thought of how to broach the subject. After a few moments, she looked up at him, her eyes almost apologetic. "What?" He asked, feeling almost nervous.

"Uh, well, you live in the city, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember maybe, uh," she paused, her face darkening in embarrassment, "maybe being on a boat one morning on the way to the city and saving a girl from falling over the railing? Or, or maybe pulling a girl out of the street later, in the city?"

Vaughn stared at her. She stared back, growing more and more tense by the second. Vaughn finally broke the intense silence by chuckling—a deep, rumbling sound that had Chelsea feeling somewhat lightheaded.

"You're pretty damn perceptive, you know that?"

Chelsea watched him helplessly as he turned and left the house, a smirk still on his lips.

* * *

**Woah, did anyone pick up on the fact that THIS WAS VAUGHN'S FIRST LAUGH IN THE STORY? And he even smirked for us, too! I wonder if he'll ever actually smile, though. He's a stubborn one like that.**

**Thanks for reading! What did you think? Too cliche? Too dramatic? Too random? Ahahaha, if you think so, you're not the only one. xP**

**P.S. This is not only the longest chapter, but also the one written in the shortest amount of time. Isn't it funny how that works out?**

**P.P.S. FIVE MONTH ANNIVERSARY OF THIS FIC xP**

**P.P.P.S. Sorry, I keep remembering things. I'm changing the rating from K+ to T because of the language and other things, and the genre from Romance/Adventure to Romance/Angst... and you'll find out why if you can't guess already xD  
**


	18. Sweet Dreams

**Whew. I apologize for my inability to write cohesive dream sequences.**

**Read up.**

* * *

_"Mommy! Mommy!"_

_ A young boy, about six or seven, ran up the hill and onto an old farm. His mother turned around and set down her watering can, her brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Her son ran up to her and handed her a small, purple flower. She smiled down at him and ruffled his silver hair—it reminded her so much of his father…_

_ "Oh, it's beautiful! Thank you, Vaughn."_

_ The boy blushed slightly and frowned in embarrassment. "It's purple just like your eyes, so I picked it for you."_

_ His mother laughed. "I was thinking it was the color of your eyes! That's why I like it so much."_

_ She bent down and gave him a tight hug, which he gratefully returned. He liked the way she smelled—it was like rain and honey. Whenever he smelled that, he felt at ease. He felt like he wasn't having a nightmare._

_ Suddenly, the sun was covered by a bank of darkened clouds rolling in. The farm grew dark and he could feel himself growing… He pulled away from the embrace and saw that he'd become a man, dressed in his usual work attire save for his hat. He turned to look back from his mother, but she wasn't there. He frowned in confusion as she backed away from him. Her smile faded as the wind picked up, and her hair fell out of its ponytail. Vaughn watched her in stoic silence, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. A flash of lightening illuminated the dark farm and he could see the fear in her eyes._

_ His feet started moving by their own accord. He didn't know what was going on, but this all felt so familiar. The rain started to pour down and a dark figure appeared at the entrance to the farm. It stumbled down the pathway and over towards his mother. Vaughn continued to walk—or was he running?—towards them. He saw the figure, now obviously male, bring his hand back to strike the woman. Vaughn let out a shout, but it went unheard. His feet moved as fast as he could make them, but he didn't seem to be getting any closer. Another flash of lightening brightened the sky and he heard a cry come from his mom. He couldn't move. The man kept stumbling around and drunkenly beating the farmer._

_ Vaughn had never felt more helpless than at this moment. More lightening struck in the distance and he could see her face, but it wasn't his mother anymore. Those eyes were blue. He'd seen them before, but never filled with this terror. Another strong gust of wind blew by, taking her red bandana off her head. She cried out as the man sent a slap across her face. The rain kept beating down on them in sheets, and Vaughn's silent shouts never reached that man through the rolling thunder. He could only stand back and watch as her knees gave out and she fell to the ground, mud covering her. She turned to look at Vaughn, tears streaming down her face. Her arm reached out towards him; her eyes pleaded with him. The man pulled his leg back, ready to kick her in the stomach._

_ "Vaughn!"_

_ He couldn't answer her before the man's foot sent her crumpling to the ground._

**Ooo**

Vaughn shot up in Mirabelle's guest bed, his bare chest heaving and covered with sweat. He blinked into the dark room, trying to calm himself. It was another one of those damned dreams, and that farmer was in it again. He ran a hand through his messy hair, focusing on controlling his breathing. As soon as his heart rate seemed to dip back into the normal range, he pushed the sheets away from him and glanced at the clock. It was almost six-thirty; he'd overslept a bit. The sun was supposed to be up at around seven, what with the shorter days of winter becoming evident and all.

Sighing, he stood up and walked across the hall to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. It would be a long Thursday, he thought, as he inspected the dark circles under his eyes in the mirror. He had developed a bit of stubble over the last few days, but he couldn't be bothered to shave that morning. He just wanted to get to work. As he began to change into his work clothes, he glanced down at his side and let out a heavy sigh. The small, pink marks were still there, even after all these years. He was a fool back then for thinking he could move on.

After settling into his vest and pulling on his hat, he stepped out of the room, preparing himself for another awkward breakfast with Julia and Mirabelle.

**Ooo**

"Aw, c'mon, Daisy! Let me brush your head! You'll like it, I promise!"

Chelsea huffed as her calf let out a short "moo" and walked away to the other side of the barn. Sighing, she placed the brush back into her rucksack and headed over to the feed dispenser to get some fodder. She let her mind wander slightly as she dumped the hay into the feed bin.

She had never heard Vaughn laugh before yesterday. It had been such a pleasant sound—why didn't he do it more often? It did seem a bit dry, though. Was he mocking her, maybe? She didn't know. She didn't know if that meant that she was right, and he was the one in the city, or if she was so wrong that it was humorous. Although, he did say that she was perceptive, so… was she right? Shaking her head, she smiled to herself. The only thing she was certain of was that she wanted to hear that cowboy laugh again.

"Alright, Daisy! You stay inside today, I don't want you out in the snow!" Chelsea called as she walked out of the warm barn and into the lightly-falling snow. It was getting colder now that the snow was falling at a steady rate, and Chelsea wished that she'd remembered to pack something heavier for this season. Maybe she'd thought that she could've bought a coat once she got to Flowerbud Village, but as it was now, she had no place to buy one and no money to buy it with. She huddled her arms together underneath her breasts, shaking slightly. Her house wasn't the warmest place around, so she started down the path towards Mirabelle's, where she could loiter with the excuse of visiting Julia.

The exposed skin on her legs was going completely numb as she shivered down the slick road. She kept her eyes on her boots as she carefully stepped on the icy path, not wanting to slip or trip and end up in the snow. Her nose was just starting to change from a dull, stinging feeling to numbness when she ran into someone in the path and fell back onto her butt. Grimacing, she put her bare hands on the snowy ground and pushed herself up, a new wave of cold biting at her body.

"What the hell're you wearin' in this weather?" A cool voice barked at her. She rolled her eyes slightly and met his purple glare with her own blue one.

"_Clothes_—What else?" She scowled, not appreciating the delay. She wanted to get somewhere warm as soon as possible, and this little conversation wasn't helping much.

"You do your chores in that?" He asked, inspecting her exposed legs with a raised eyebrow. Chelsea could barely feel her cheeks heat up, relieving them of some of the cold.

"Yeah," she admitted, suddenly feeling ashamed of her lack of money. She didn't want him knowing how poorly her ranch was doing, especially during the winter when there were no crops for income. With Daisy still a calf and unable to produce milk, she had no real way for making money. All her savings from summer and fall were being eaten away—literally. She needed food.

"Why don't you wear your coat? Or _pants_?" He made it sound like she was doing this on purpose. Shame and anger filled her chest and she snapped at him, her jaw shaking slightly as the snow floated down and she took a step towards him.

"I don't have any, _okay_? I'm broke. _Flat broke_. I can't _afford_ a coat. I can't _afford_ pants. I can't even afford to _eat_ if I want to feed my cow for the winter!"

His eyes widened slightly before he recovered his usual stoic expression. He frowned down at her, his eyes studying hers. She glared back fiercely, not backing down. Finally, he sighed and broke their eye contact. He looked like he was mentally kicking himself as he pulled off his own black coat and handed it to her. She stared at it blankly for several moments before raising her eyebrows at him.

"What do I do with this?"

"Wear it," he scowled lightly, his eye twitching in poorly concealed irritation. She flushed—or was it just the cold?—and shook her head, holding it back out to him.

"C'mon, Vaughn," she sighed, looking up at him tiredly, "this coat is _yours_."

"You need it more than I do."

"The hell if I need it more! It's _not mine_. Take it." She pushed it into his chest, but he didn't grab it. Chelsea frowned deeply up at him, but her brow was trembling. She looked down and wiped at her eyes with her frozen hands, willing herself not to cry. She didn't want to cry in front of him again. She didn't want to be weak. Vaughn watched her this whole time, bewildered. Had he done something _wrong_? He tried to give her his coat, and now she was standing there, starting to cry. It didn't make sense to him. He guessed that she didn't want to be a charity case, but she was going to freeze to death if she didn't put some clothes on, damn it. She couldn't even go inside to escape the cold—that run-down shack of hers was just as cold inside as it was out. He draped the coat over her shoulders and stepped back as she looked up.

He raised his eyebrow at her pout and turned to leave, saying, "You're gonna freeze. Just take it. I won't tell anyone."

She blinked at him as he walked back towards the animal shop. Once he was safely inside, she stared at the coat that fell over her figure. It smelled like hay and rain. Was this what Vaughn smelled like? Chelsea almost smirked at how creepy she was, standing in the road, sniffing a coat. She pulled the fabric closer to her and headed back to her farm, smiling slightly when she noticed how warm it already was.

* * *

**Aw, how cute. In a demented way.**

**So, in case you don't remember, Vaughn kept mentioning his dreams. Now we get to see what he meant. If it was confusing, well, it's okay. I'm a bit confused by it, too. It should become a bit clearer as the story goes on. I hope. Eheh.**

**Vaughn's so chivalrous. Chelsea's so stubborn. Oh, Vaughn. Why did you suddenly become nice? It's so... random! Dx**

**Well, I had this whole other scene planned for this chapter, but it turns out that I hit my 1200-word goal a lot faster than I anticipate. I didn't even think to check the word count until it was already at 1700 words. So, yes, I have no doubt that this is the longest chapter. I think that the next one will kind of expand on this one a bit. This winter is going to be packed, ahaha. In fact, it makes it difficult because Vaughn's only on the island eight days a season, and we've already used up one of them! Well, I guess the only thing else I can tell you is that this little arc of the story is officially called "The Winter of Angst," okay?**

**Stay tuned for chapter eighteen! Er, nineteen? Whatever, chapter big-number! Tell me this: have you ever worn a guy's jacket? (And not a jacket purchased from the men's department. You know what I mean.) For me, the answer is no, but I have worn a guy's tie. xP I'm looking forward to your answers! :D**

**/long author's note**


	19. Too Many Romance Novels

**Um. Hi? Long A/N in the bottom tries to explain.**

**I realized that I left you all with Chelsea sniffing a coat in the snow for five months and then I realized that you probably didn't like that.  
**

**Just... Just read it. xP**

* * *

"Hey, welcome back! How was it this week? Anything especially exciting happen?"

Vaughn rolled his eyes at Riley as they walked down the pier. It was late on Friday night and Vaughn wanted nothing more than to just get back to his apartment and sleep after this last week's work. He really didn't feel like talking much—not that he ever really did—but Riley didn't seem to get that message. In fact, Riley was never that good and knowing when Vaughn wanted him to just shut up.

"Let me alone," Vaughn hissed, his breath creating a white cloud in front of his face. A breeze blew by and Vaughn felt goose bumps spring up on his skin, beneath his thin shirt. Riley noticed as Vaughn shivered, even though the cowboy had made sure to do so discreetly.

"Vaughn, man, where's your coat? Did you lose it or something?"

"Somethin' like that…" Vaughn mumbled, pulling his Stetson down and quickening his pace down the darkened, empty sidewalk. Riley raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"What do you mean? It couldn't have just gotten up and walked off, and you're not the kind to lose things like that. Did someone steal it?"

"Ha," Vaughn snorted, but kept the light scowl on his face. Riley stopped walking, his face stuck like he's just run into a wall.

"Dude," he started, gaping at the cowboy. Vaughn stopped and looked back at him. "Did you just… _snort_?"

Rolling his eyes, Vaughn continued on towards his apartment. It was just a few blocks away now, and Vaughn really couldn't wait to get inside and be warm. Riley shook himself from his stupor and jogged up next to Vaughn, smirking slightly. Vaughn grimaced—Riley was making it difficult to just go home and, well, _be_ _alone_. Because that's all Vaughn really wanted right then. He just wanted to sleep.

They finally reached the outside of the apartment building. Vaughn stopped and turned to face Riley, who was clearly interested in Vaughn's change of… well, Riley couldn't place it, but there was something different about Vaughn, and he couldn't help but think that the missing coat had something to do with it.

Vaughn grimaced at the curiosity and suspicion in Riley's face. "Let. Me. Alone."

"Who'd you give the coat to?" Riley asked, taking a guess. Vaughn's eye twitched and he seemed to gain some extra color in his cheeks—Riley smirked. He was spot-on.

"None of your damn business," Vaughn scowled as he turned to open the door. Riley laughed.

"Did that girl seriously wear it when you gave it to her?" Another guess—Riley bit down on his tongue, hoping he'd been right again. Vaughn froze in the doorway for several seconds, his shoulders tense. Finally, he relaxed them.

"Yeah, she did."

Vaughn went inside and shut the door as Riley snorted. Sighing, he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He hated when Riley was right.

**Ooo**

Chelsea hurried out of her farmhouse the next morning, smiling as she opened the door to a light sprinkling of perfectly-white snow. It was like there was a giant baker in the sky dusting the island with powdered sugar. Chelsea laughed to herself as she headed towards her barn, clutching the oversized black coat closer to her body.

"Good morning, Daisy," Chelsea smiled as she entered the barn, feeling a wall of surprisingly warm air hit her, "You've got it lucky, you know? It's so nice in here!"

Daisy let out a loud moo and started over towards the farmer, who was getting her brush out. Chelsea knelt down and started stroking the thick, brown hair, patting her calf's side gently as she did. Daisy turned her head and nuzzled her owner, causing Chelsea to laugh softly.

"Oh, Daisy, you goofball," she chuckled, brushing the other side, "You know, you're going to be fully grown soon. Then we can get some milk, and that means we can maybe get enough money to get you a friend or two. Once you're all grown up, the winter will be halfway over, and then Spring will come, and you can go outside again to graze. And I can plant a bunch of new crops, too. We'll make enough money to fix up this farm. I can get a warmer house for next winter, and we can upgrade this barn for you so we can find you even more friends, Daisy—and maybe we can even build a coop and get some chickens!

"Doesn't that sound nice? And we can all sit outside together, and it'll be really great. We'll get an apple tree, just like the one at home. Maybe some bees will come by and make a hive so we can get honey from them… You know what, Daisy? I haven't had honey in a long time. I think I'll get some from Chen's shop after you start making milk. I'd give you some, but I don't think you'd like it very much. Or, at least, I'm not too sure it's that good for you. I'll just plant some fresh grass for you to eat—how 'bout that? You'll like it.

"You know, I'm really glad I decided to get you, Daisy. You're the best cow a girl could ask for. Has anyone told you how good at listening you are? Because you really—"

"Uh, Chelsea?" Julia's voice called from the doorway of the barn. Chelsea's heart jumped up into her throat and she jumped up, dropping the brush and startling Daisy.

"Oh, sorry, Daisy," Chelsea said tightly, her face flushed in embarrassment—how much had Julia heard?—as she tried to calm down the calf by petting her head. Julia giggled.

"You are such a dork, Chelsea," she snickered, her eyes twinkling. Chelsea pouted slightly, still feeling like she could fall into the floor and disappear. Before Chelsea could ask what Julia wanted, Julia was already walking over, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. Chelsea wasn't sure what she was doing—glancing around, Chelsea confirmed in her mind that there was nothing out of the ordinary…

"Whose coat is this, Chels?"

Chelsea cringed. Dang—_almost_ nothing was out of the ordinary. Julia raised her eyebrows expectantly, her hands placed gingerly on her hips. Chelsea sighed. No sense in lying to her, she figured. Besides, she probably recognized the coat already and was just asking to humiliate her.

"It's… uh, it's Vaughn's…" Chelsea muttered, feeling her cheeks heat up a bit. It didn't really occur to her what her wearing the cowboy's coat around _implied_. Julia's mouth dropped open.

"Wait—seriously? I thought it looked kind of like his, but—wow. When? How? Why? You have to tell me these things, Chelsea. I thought he was a heartless jerk."

Chelsea rolled her eyes. "He's not that bad when you get to know him. I keep telling you that."

"Well, you can't honestly tell me that you expected him to _give you his coat_, can you?"

"No," Chelsea sighed, frowning slightly, "it was a bit… weird. I mean, it was really, really nice and sweet and stuff, but just—I don't know—_weird_. Like, I wouldn't think he'd do that."

"But he did. Why?" Julia asked, leaning against the wall with her arms still crossed. Chelsea grimaced and leaned next to her.

"He thought I was too cold, I guess," she shrugged, leaving out the parts about her being too poor to buy anything and how Vaughn insisted that she keep it and, well, just about everything else in the conversation. Julia didn't _need_ to know all that stuff.

"But why on earth would he just _give you his jacket_?"

"He didn't _want_ me to be cold?"

"But," Julia raised an eyebrow suddenly, looking suspiciously at Chelsea through slightly narrowed eyes, "why does he _care_?"

"What?" Chelsea asked, suddenly nervous from Julia's attitude change. Was she implying something?

"Vaughn doesn't care about people—at least, that's what I've gathered from him over the last couple months—and now he's giving you the coat off his back because he doesn't want you to be cold?"

"Uh," Chelsea glanced around awkwardly, "yes?"

"Do you know what this means?" Julia pushed off the wall, her eyes shining. Chelsea swallowed, afraid of where this was going.

"That Vaughn isn't mean?"

"No! He's still a jerk," Julia laughed. Chelsea frowned, preparing to protest. Vaughn wasn't a jerk—wasn't this whole situation proof of that? Julia cut her off, smirking, "Chelsea, he totally likes you. Heck, he might even love you."

Chelsea fell silent for several moments, her face hard. And then she cracked up.

"Hey," Julia pouted, confused at Chelsea's reaction, "What gives? That wasn't supposed to be a joke, you know!"

"Bu-But," Chelsea gasped for air, clutching her stomach, "Vaughn can't be in love with me! That's just…"

"True." Julia said, raising her eyebrows stubbornly.

"Crazy."Chelsea amended, frowning slightly. "He doesn't love me."

"Wanna bet?" Julia asked, crossing her arms again. Chelsea shook her head in disbelief. She honestly thought that Vaughn was in love with her. It was so absurd to even think about—absolutely insane. There was no way…

"Julia, I think you read too many romance novels."

* * *

**Okay, so, um. Excuses. Right. Uh. Sophomore year sucks?**

**It's been five months. And then I update with something as horrible as this. I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. It was just like this wave of writer's block drowned me... But, yeah. I know you don't want to hear it. Anywho, I know what happens next. I really, truly do. In fact, I have all the major events lined up. The only problem is the things in between them. That's why this chapter took so long-I could not come up with a good little chapter to space it out. Ugh. It kills me, too. You know how, in my very first A/N of this fic, I said i had plot bunnies that would only work in a long fic? Yeah, well, I still haven't gotten to them yet. It's been like ten months and I still haven't gotten to use them. And I really, really want to. So that's why I have no doubt that, no matter what, this fic will be seen through to the end.**

**And this isn't over until I get to my plot bunnies, darn it.**

**Yes, this was written between 3:00 and 6:00 in the morning. That might explain why it's such crap. It'll probably take another chapter or two before I find my style again. I apologize for that, too. This chapter is pretty much filler, but it covered something necessary. The next one is going to be very similar, but... a lot better. I promise. And I'm going to start it ASAP. Like, within minutes of uploading this one. Honest. I may fall asleep, though. But once it's started, it'll be finished soon, so... yeah. **

**Do you want to know what actually made this update take so long? Man, you all are going to hate me. Back in August, I was planning on playing a prank on all you people and update with a fake chapter-a chapter in which Vaughn and Chelsea died in a really stupid way and then "end" the fic. Then I was going to update a day later with the real chapter and say it was all a joke, ha-ha-ha, yeah.**

**I got my writer's block trying to figure out how to fake kill them.**

**And then I didn't write again until tonight.**

**It's okay if you want to punch me.**

**Uh, but anyways, yeah. I have a job now and I play JV basketball along with all my crazy homework and stuff, so it'll be really difficult to update. Honestly, I'm wondering how I'm going to be able to do it. It turns out that I had hyperthyroidism the entire time I was writing this fic, thus enabling me to only sleep for five hours a night. Now I take meds (bahahahaha) that make me normal, so I can't do that anymore. Which means no late-night writing.**

**Long author's note is long, but it all needs to be said.**

**I actually wrote my first original work during November (National Novel Writing Month ftw!), so that took up some of my creative juices. Maybe it'll be published someday. HA. YEAHRITE xD**

**So, I'll see you all next chapter. After that one, things get interesting. I believe I called this the Winter of Angst, right? Hm. Riiiight. xP**

_NEW FEATURE - CHAPTER STATS_ **(Because it's just nice to know these things)**

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1539_

_Date Updated: 12/31/10_

_Current Review Count: 132_


	20. Who Cares?

**I did fall asleep, but I still finished it! And, by the way, happy New Year. It's going to be a new decade-can you believe it? Let's hope things go well for everyone in 2011! Especially Vaughn and Chelsea, eh?**

**By the way, in response to an anonymous reviewer, this fic is, in fact, named after the Lady Antebellum song "American Honey". The song is what inspired this version of Chelsea. It's a wonderful song. One of my favorites. xP  
**

_NEW FEATURE - CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1655  
_

_Date Updated: 12/31/10_

_Current Review Count: 135_

* * *

Chelsea woke up on Wednesday morning feeling especially cold. She groggily sat up in her raggedy bed, her hair flying every which direction, her legs covered in goose bumps. Where were her blankets? She wasn't usually this cold in the mornings. It was normally just a little, biting feeling all over and numb feet. Today, she was shivering. Now, Chelsea's half-asleep brain takes twice as long to process information as her alert brain does. She immediately knew that her covers had been kicked off and onto the floor, but it took her a while to figure out why there was a small puddle of melting snow on the hardwood beneath her window.

Oh, crap. She forgot to close the window last night. And she never really opened it, either—it just had to be the _one_ time she did that this happened…

Yawning hugely, she rolled out of bed, shuddering as her feet hit the icy floor. She needed to invest in some slippers or something. She smirked at herself—right, because she could _totally_ afford to buy slippers. She just wouldn't need to eat for a week.

Sighing, Chelsea brought her hands up above her head in a stretch. She shook her head, trying to wake up completely. Another day of farm work was calling her name, and there was no way that she could ignore it. She trudged over to a cabinet and grabbed one of her few, old towels to sop up the slushy snow littering her floor. As that was soaking it up, Chelsea grabbed onto the freezing window to pull it shut—but it wouldn't budge. She squeezed on it and yanked harder, but still, it wouldn't move. One more time she tried, but her fingers were turning purple and really starting to hurt from the cold pressure.

"Well, crap," Chelsea muttered, rubbing her hands together and studying the still-open window. At least it wasn't snowing out. Sighing, she decided that she'd just have to come try again later—maybe the window would thaw out a little in the midday temperatures. She sighed once again, a short, quick feeling of defeat washing over her. Then she went to go get ready for her day.

**Ooo**

Vaughn stepped onto the island a little later than usual—his boat had been delayed because of some sort of pending weather conditions that he didn't know about. Apparently it wasn't that urgent if they let the boat go through.

Vaughn scanned the beach one time before padding his way over to the animal shop to do some work. He pushed open the door and a cow bell sounded off above him, startling him. He turned to glare up at it—had that always been there? Damn bells…

"Oh, Vaughn, you're back," Mirabelle smiled at him from behind the counter, "I'm afraid to say that we don't have a lot of work for you today. Julia already took care of the chickens and I fed the others when I wasn't sure your boat was going to arrive."

Vaughn frowned. What was he supposed to do now? Winter was starting to come in full-swing, so he couldn't be outside for too long. And Goddess knew how few indoor activities there were to do on Sunny Island. Vaughn was about to just turn and leave when Julia flew into the room.

"Hey, Ma, I—oh, Vaughn," she stopped, turning to face the cowboy. She looked him over once and smirked slightly, her eyes getting a mischievous glint to them. "Nice coat."

Vaughn narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious. He'd been using one of his older, dark brown coats since he got back to the city. Julia was teasing him. He scowled, turning to leave. He heard Julia begin laughing as the door shut behind him.

**Ooo**

Chelsea walked sullenly down the path from her farm. That window still wouldn't budge. She'd gone to take care of Daisy and then tried to open it again, but to no avail. She looked down at her numb, red hands. One of her finger was cut a little bit from slipping and jamming it into the side of the window sill. She continued studying her hands, completely forgetting to watch where she was going until she ran right into someone. A hand reached out and steadied her before she could fall. She looked down sheepishly.

"Sorry," she blushed, her hands falling back to her sides. Her eyes widened slightly at the grunt in reply—she knew that grunt. She looked up and smiled, "Vaughn! Is it Wednesday already? Yes—I'm so lucky!"

Vaughn raised an eyebrow at her. What was she getting so worked up about? He was here every Wednesday and Thursday—what was so special about today? Had she been… waiting for him? He shook that ridiculous thought from his head. What was he thinking? No one waited for him to come. If anything, they couldn't wait for him to leave.

"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Vaughn finally asked, frowning slightly. Chelsea folded her hands in front of her and Vaughn noticed that she was wearing his coat. It looked absolutely huge on her. She had the sleeves rolled up, but it was still obviously too large. He rolled his eyes internally, but couldn't feel remorse for giving it to her.

"My window is jammed—I can't close it. I accidentally left it open last night and it's like the arctic in my house. I can't live with that for the rest of the season," She explained, tracing a shape in the snow with her boot. Vaughn raised his eyebrows, still frowning slightly.

"So? What does this have to do with me?"

Chelsea bit down on her lip and looked up nervously. "Well, I was kind of hoping that—_maybe_—you could help me out? Like, can you get it closed for me? My hands are too numb to get a good grip, and, well…"

Vaughn rolled his eyes as she trailed off, but started walking up the path to her farm. Chelsea beamed and skipped after him, thanking him all the way. He rolled his eyes again. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

**Ooo**

The window finally budged after three hard yanks from the cowboy. He slid it shut and turned to Chelsea, who was watching incredulously.

"Wait, wait, wait," she said, gaping at the closed window, "How did you do that? That's exactly what I've been trying all morning!"

"Well," Vaughn looked over at her from beneath his hat, "your arms're like twigs."

"Hey, watch it. I run a farm, you know? It's not my fault my muscles aren't that visible," Chelsea frowned, feigning hurt. Then her face softened some as she smiled, "Thanks, Vaughn. I owe you. Again."

Vaughn glanced over at her and felt his face heat up. There she was, smiling again. It made him so confused. It was like his palms got sweaty, his heart went into overtime, and his stomach turned over every time she looked at him like that. He hated it, but he kind of didn't. He couldn't decide—all he knew was that it was troublesome whenever she did _that_.

"Stop smilin'," he grunted, pulling his hat down to hide his colored face. He didn't want her to know how absolutely baffled she made him.

Chelsea tilted her head quizzically. He wanted her to stop _smiling_? Really? Just because he never smiled doesn't mean that she couldn't. She bit down on her lip, thinking as she watched him hide his face from her view. "You know, Vaughn, you really should smile more."

"Why the hell should I do that?" Vaughn mumbled, still trying to get the extra blood out of his face. Chelsea shrugged.

"Because it's nice to smile. People might like you more, you know?"

"I don't care about what _people_ think," Vaughn rolled his eyes, turning to walk down the path. Chelsea walked with him.

"Fair enough," she said, still watching him. She back in the beginning of the season, when he'd chuckled in her house. She wanted to hear that again. She wanted to see that again. She placed her hand on his arm, stopping him. "But… I'd like to see you smile."

Vaughn looked down at her sheepish grin, a bit taken aback. No one had ever—_ever_—said _anything_ like that to him. No one cared if he smiled or not. No one cared if he was happy. But here Chelsea was, saying stuff like that to _him_, smiling all timid-like at _him_, waiting for whatever _he_ would say. It must have been something in those blue eyes at that moment that made him believe it.

She really did care.

"Hey, Chelsea!"

The two jumped and snapped their attention towards the path where the voice had come. Elliot jogged up, huffing slightly as he came up to them. Vaughn glared at the glasses-clad boy. He'd never really liked him—he was too much of a wimp. Elliot noticed the glare and shy over towards Chelsea, glancing confusedly between the farmer and the cowboy. He looked like he was going to ask something, but Vaughn cut him off in a gruff voice.

"What d'you want?"

Elliot let out a barely-audible squeak and turned to face Chelsea, still glancing nervously over at Vaughn out of the corner of his eyes.

"Chelsea, my grandpa wanted me to come over to warn you about the snowstorm that'll be blowing in tonight—he said to make sure your calf is inside." He explained.

"A snowstorm?" Chelsea furrowed her eyebrows, glancing over at Vaughn before looking back to Elliot, "Well, that doesn't sound too great. Thanks for letting me know, Elliot."

Elliot nodded and turned to leave, staying as far away from Vaughn as possible. Chelsea watched him go and then let out a long sigh. "It looks like it was a good thing you fixed my window."

* * *

**Bahahaha. Finally, it's all set up. Kind of. I still feel like I'm rushing now. Believe it or not, the pace I'm going with the plot is still too fast for my liking. Sure, it's been nineteen (twenty?) chapters and Vaughn and Chelsea still haven't done anything too blatantly romantic, but it's still going to quickly! I swear, for what's going to happen next, we should be at at least chapter twenty-three.**

**Woah. Hold on. Plot bunny! I just got a plot bunny! Bahaha! It's PERFECT! Alright, that solves a problem or two. Cool beans. I'll see you guys next chapter-it looks like a storm is blowing in, just in time for Vaughn to realize that Chelsea honestly cares. Boo-yah. Review and tell me what you think! :D**


	21. The Storm Begins

**Ugh, freaking Fanfiction just had a spasm and deleted my A/N. Basically, here's the next chapter. It's a bit shorter than the last few, and for that I apologize. I didn't realize until a reviewer mentioned it that the last chapter ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, and I didn't want that, so... here you go!**

**IMPORTANT: I have a new poll in my profile, and I would like to ask that you all go and put in a vote - The poll is directly related to this fic, and, depending on the feedback I get, it may change the course of the story. So, as the audience of this fic, I'd love to hear your opinions. Please go over and vote! It'll only take a minute and it would mean the world to me :D**

**On with the chapter!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1311  
_

_Date Updated: 1-3-11_

_Current Review Count: 139_

_**(Woah, look at the word count and the date o.O)**  
_

* * *

"Mirabelle probably needs my help," Vaughn muttered, turning away from Chelsea, "see y'around."

"Oh… okay," Chelsea nodded, pursing her lips. "Bye."

She watched as Vaughn made his way down the path. Her brow furrowed as he slowed slightly, hesitating at the exit. He turned his head to the side and said over his shoulder, "Stay inside."

Chelsea raised an eyebrow—she knew better than to go out in a snowstorm. They happened all the time back in Mineral Town. Did he really think she was stupid enough to go skipping around in a blizzard? She rolled her eyes but nodded anyway and Vaughn continued down the hill.

**Ooo**

Vaughn could hear the wind howling from inside of Mirabelle's guest room later that night. The snow beat against the side of the building in the dark. Sighing, Vaughn glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was still only two o'clock? He was never going to get any decent sleep—he knew that much. It seemed like every time he shut his eyes he saw that damn Chelsea stuck, frozen in a pile of snow outside. He just knew that she would find some way to get in trouble, and it was eating away at the corner of his mind. He wasn't obsessing over it, though. Nope, he didn't care _that_ much… It was just occupying the back of his mind, and he didn't exactly enjoy it. It made him just uncomfortable enough to lose some sleep.

It wasn't like it mattered to him.

Vaughn grimaced into the darkness. Damn, he hated it when he lied to himself.

**Ooo**

Chelsea sat up quickly, startled out of her troubled sleep. Her shutters were rattling and banging against the outside of her house in the winds of the storm, causing such a loud racket that she just couldn't fall back asleep. Yawning, she glanced around the room. She could barely make out the outlines of her few pieces of furniture. The clock on her nightstand read two o'clock in the morning. Chelsea let out a small groan—she just wanted to sleep through this storm. She wasn't even sure when it was supposed to blow over. For all she knew, it would continue on until Friday.

Yawning once more, Chelsea sunk back into her bed and pulled the covers up close to her face. She brought her knees up to her chest and curled up, trying to absorb all the warmth that she could. Her house was like a freezer in this blizzard.

She drifted off to sleep again, thinking about the last snowstorm she'd been in at home. The one raging outside her old farmhouse one was a lot colder than she remembered others being.

**Ooo**

The snow being pelted at the wall next to Chelsea's bed served as a better alarm than any clock she'd ever had. Sitting up slowly, the farmer let out a long, tired yawn and reached her hands into the air, stretching her back out. Her clock said that it was almost eight-thirty in the morning—she'd overslept. But did that really matter? It wasn't like she could do anything today. Besides, she'd agreed to stay inside when Vaughn told her to, and she had no intention to go freeze her butt off in that storm. But with a quick glance around her dimly-lit room, Chelsea realized that she really didn't have a lot to do indoors. As a matter of fact, she had nothing. No television, no books, no cooking utensils, no _paper_…

She sighed, pushing her covers off. The frosty air bit at her face, arms, and feet—she was happy that her pajama bottoms were long and covered her legs. With those and Vaughn's coat, she'd be warm enough. Now, if only she could figure out something to do all day. She swing her feet over the side of the bed and winced as her feet made contact with the icy floor. She scurried over to the table and grabbed Vaughn's coat, then ran back over to sit on her bed as she pulled her arms through the black sleeves.

She didn't have any crops to worry about in the wintertime. Even if she did, it wasn't like she would be able to do anything about them in this storm. And she'd made sure yesterday before the storm that Daisy was safe and sound inside the warm barn. There was no way that she could wonder outside, and Chelsea had made sure to tell her what was going to happen so that she wouldn't be afraid. Chelsea'd thought of everything and done it. She didn't have anything to worry about—except…

Chelsea's eyes widened and her jaw went slack. "Oh, crap."

She didn't give Daisy any extra fodder for today. Daisy didn't have any food. She was going to starve her calf! Chelsea glanced around. What was she supposed to do? She stood up and flew over to her dresser, peeling off her warm pajamas and wrestling into her cold work clothes. It wasn't that long of a walk to the barn. She'd be able to get there in no time—she'd been out in a blizzard before. It wasn't exactly something she'd been wanting to do again, but her only animal—her only new family—was waiting for her, counting on her.

She pulled her boots on, sighing at her exposed knees. It couldn't be helped—she didn't have anything warmer except her pajamas, but she didn't want those to be all soaking wet for when she got back. Chelsea marched over to her door, stopping for a moment to calm herself down and figure out the quickest route to the barn. The wind beating on the walls around her didn't help her concentration much. With a lame shrug, she gritted her teeth and pulled open her door, jumping back as a small pile of snow poured inside. She stepped over it and into the fierce wind, cringing as the snow whipped across her legs and face, biting her. Holding one hand up to shield her eyes, Chelsea yanked the door shut and turned in the direction her barn was.

The wind was screaming in her ears and her entire farm seemed to be a world of blurry white. She kept her focus on her feet, making sure not to trip on any branches of boulders. She was sure glad she'd walked to and from the barn so often—she had the path memorized and made it to the small building in less than five minutes. She pushed through the doors and hurried inside, shutting them behind her. Her body melted in the sudden warmth and a small smile fell upon her face. Maybe she should just stay in the barn all day.

She turned around and saw that Daisy was still asleep, so she quietly made her way over to the feed dispenser. She reached her hands inside to pick up a pile of fodder, but she couldn't feel anything. Her brow furrowed. Why couldn't she feel the hay? She bent down, glancing into the bin. It took her several seconds to process what she saw, but when she did, she could have screamed.

"Why is there no fodder?" She asked herself, her eyes wide as she frantically felt around the small dispenser. It was no use, though. She'd run out yesterday and didn't even realize it. Letting out a little whimper, she turned and sunk to the floor, her back against the wall. Daisy was still sleeping peacefully. Chelsea's heart ached—she had to feed Daisy. If she didn't, the calf might get sick and hate her. She was Chelsea's only family now. Something had to be done.

So Chelsea stood up and marched back into the storm, ignoring the cold as it slapped her. She had some feed to buy.

* * *

**Hm. This is actually kind of a cliffhanger, too, huh? I didn't mean to - honest. I just couldn't fit the next scene in without adding like another thousand words! Ah, well. It'll be updated soon enough, yeah? Yeah. Thanks for your wonderful reviews, guys. They get me writing better than anything else I know of. You all are the best inspiration out there :D**


	22. Through the Snow

**Ugh. I hate school. I miss break Dx**

**Anywho, so, I had started this chapter the day that the last one was released and couldn't finish it. The first chance I got to work on it again was just a couple hours ago, and I still have some homework to do. And get this: I was adding to this chapter and got up to the point that I thought it was going to end at, yeah? But then I look and it's the size of two chapters! So what did I do? I cut it in half. This is a short chapter, and the next one is a bit on the shorter side, too (but it's longer than this one).**

**Enjoy this update! I want to update at least once a week, so I'm not putting the next chapter up until I know that I'll be able to write another one this week. Get reading!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1150  
_

_Date Updated: 1-9-11_

_Current Review Count: 148_

* * *

About halfway down the pathway to Mirabelle's, Chelsea regretted going out. Sure, she had to feed Daisy, but running out into the middle of a snowstorm? Even she knew it was downright stupid. And to someone with her coordination and luck, it was basically a death wish. But she was already halfway there—she couldn't turn back now!

The snow continued to blow horizontally, scraping across her numbing face, knees, and hands. What she would give for a pair of pants and a scarf right then. She just had to keep going—one step, then another, then one more… She was making progress. She watched her red boots crunch into the ankle-deep snow, each foot disappearing from view until she pulled it up in another step. She started counting off in her head—_one, two, three, four. One, two, thr—agh!_

She gasped as she took another step, her foot being swallowed by a patch of snow that was far deeper than she expected. Her entire boot went down, soaking her leg and sending a new wave of nipping cold up her body. Shocked, she yanked at her foot, and—of course—lost her balance, falling forward into freezing white. Why did she have to be so clumsy? Was the world out to get her?

Gritting her teeth, Chelsea pushed her numb, bare hands into the snow in front of her and fought her way up. She was so close—she could feel it! Just a few more yards. One, two, three, four. One, two three, four. One, two… Was that a building she could see through the white abyss?

Smiling slightly, Chelsea quickened her pace. She tripped every few steps, but didn't make it to the ground again—she lunged towards the dark wooden structure, laying her hands on the wall, laughing in relief. She made it! Feeling her way towards the front door, she realized that she really had no feeling in her legs or hands anymore, and her clothes were soaked.

She pushed open the door, stumbling inside before turning and sealing the cold outside again. She faced the interior of the shop again, leaning against the door, breathing heavily. She opened her eyes after a moment, smiling faintly at the shocked faces of the women in charge.

"Chelsea?" Julia asked, her voice unsure. Chelsea laughed once, giddy from the cold.

"Hey, Jules," she giggled, "I need to buy some fodder."

**Ooo**

"Chelsea, Honey," Mirabelle said, frowning slightly in concern, "I'm not sure it'd be right for you to go back out into that storm—especially carrying those bags of fodder."

"Aw, Mirabelle," Chelsea smiled, shrugging and trying to conceal her shivering, "don't worry—I'll be fine. I made it here, right?"

"But, Chels," Julia started, her eyebrows knit together in concern. Chelsea interrupted her.

"But nothing," she smiled wider, hoping to reassure her best friends, "I need to feed Daisy—you two can totally understand that, right?"

"Well, it is important to feed your animals, but—"

"You see?" Chelsea grinned, "I'll be fine. I'll see you two tomorrow. If something happens to me on the way there, I'll… scream. Or something. But I won't have to, because nothing will happen. I swear."

Julia rolled her eyes. "Chelsea, this is _you_ we're talking about. No offense."

Chelsea scoffed. "Have a little faith in me, won't you? I made it here in one piece, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah," Julia admitted, and then turned to her mother, obviously still unhappy with the current situation. Chelsea bounced from foot to foot, slowly regaining feeling again. She was nervous—she just wanted to get back to Daisy to feed her and then get into her pajamas and sleep. Mirabelle pursed her lips, her finger up to her chin in thought.

"I wonder if we could send…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "No, we couldn't ask that."

"What, Ma?" Julia asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. Chelsea did the same—did they have a solution to this 'dilemma' that would make everyone happy?

"Well, I was thinking we could send Vaughn with her, but—"

"Oh, no, no," Chelsea cut in, shifting the bags of fodder to her other arm, "I couldn't ask that of him. It still _is_ pretty dangerous out there."

Mirabelle and Julia nodded slowly. Chelsea wasn't about to admit that she didn't want him to know that she was here after promising to stay inside during the storm. He would be seriously pissed off. In fact, he might not even let her go back to her farm—but, no… She did want to go back to take care of her animal. _He_, of all people, would understand that. Right?

…She didn't want to take the chance.

"I'll just leave now, alright? I'll see you two tomorrow!" Chelsea called as she hurried to open the door and rush out into the blizzard before they could object. She shut the door and set off in the direction of her farm, counting off in her head again. It was like a snow globe during an earthquake out there—she couldn't see a foot ahead of her. At least she could tell when she was close when the ground started to go uphill.

Suddenly, the bottom of her boot lost its traction and slid down the hill, leaving Chelsea lying horizontally on her stomach in the snow. She sighed, scrambling up and grabbing her fodder bags. This would be a long walk to the barn.

**Ooo**

_White. That was all he could see, hear, feel, taste, smell. He closed his eyes, but even then he couldn't block out the whiteness. There was nothing. With his eyes still closed—or were they open?—he started running. It didn't matter which way he ran. He just needed to be somewhere else._

_His feet flew over the hollow floor easily, like he was running on a thick expanse of smooth plastic and there were no obstacles. But he didn't like it—he needed something in his way. It was too easy—there had to be a catch. There had to be something to hold him back, something to cause him trouble. There always was._

_His feet started to feel heavy and cold. His running slowed and he opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the new sunlight. Snow was falling all around him, slowly and carefully, dancing to the frozen ground. He studied his new surroundings cautiously and completely. Where was this? It was so familiar. He knew he'd been here before, but he didn't know where "here" was. He'd see that waterfall in the distance and the bridge down the hill. He recognized that pathway and the pond at the end of it. He knew the buildings on the property he stood on. He'd seen them all before, dusted in white like they were now. It all was so familiar._

"_Vaughn, you're home."_

_

* * *

_**Tiny chapter. Sorry! But, hey, at least now I can guarantee an update by next Sunday! Expect Chapter Twenty-Two (Twenty-Three?) by January 16! Woo! Alright. Yeah. I hate to put you guys back into dream-mode, but hey, it's interesting. To me. This dream sequence is my favorite one yet! ...Even though I only have one other one written...**

**Yeah. Well. There's still a poll in my profile that I would love to see you guys' votes in! Thanks to everyone who's voted so far. The results are what I was kind of expecting, but it still helps to hear your opinions. The results have helped me finalize what goes on in the next couple chapters! Kind of. Okay, I was planning on doing my plan all along, but I'm reassured now. xDDD**

**See you guys next week (or sooner)! Thanks for reviewing BD**


	23. Inside Darkness, Outside Light

**I just couldn't hold this chapter any longer. It felt wrong to be keeping it on my computer and not letting you all read it. Besides, with a mild cliffhanger still looming around form the last chapter, things were nerve-wracking for me. I was fretting about this chapter and stuff.**

**More crazy dream for you all to take in. Enjoy.**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1374  
_

_Date Updated: 1-11-11_

_Current Review Count: 153_

* * *

_Vaughn turned around, not surprised in the least when he heard the voice. It was distinctly female and pleasant to his ears. He could listen to that voice all day. It was also familiar in a vague way, but it also sounded so similar to something—someone?—he'd heard very recently…_

"_Are you coming inside?"_

_Vaughn nodded, not of his own will, but not necessarily against it. He was hesitantly comfortable here—over the years, he'd made sure to be slow to get comfortable anywhere, but here... he felt like he could be safe. He watched the woman walk ahead of him towards a small, wooden house on the property. He couldn't tell exactly who she was. He saw her brown ponytail swish behind her and felt a twinge of a memory come up in his mind, but it fluttered away before he could grasp it._

_He followed her towards the house. She opened the door and stepped into the darkness, leaving Vaughn right outside, staring after her. He felt himself just staring through the door, into the blackness. He wasn't walking anymore. The pleasant woman was gone, and it was cold outside, but he didn't really want to go in after her. It didn't seem right. That house—that darkness… It wasn't safe._

"_Vaughn, get inside."_

_Hair stood up on the back of his neck at the sound of this smooth voice. His feet were nailed to the ground and he felt suddenly very small, like a kid again. The deep, threatening voice slithered out again, cunning, controlling and conceited._

"_Get inside. Now."_

_A soft breeze came by and carried the voice closer to his face. A waft of some pungent aroma hit him like a punch to the face—alcohol._

_He knew better than to fight. He knew better than to disobey. He really did. But he couldn't get himself to follow the woman into the darkness. The man behind him let out a growl, sending a shiver up Vaughn's spine. Vaughn could feel the air moving as the hand came closer to hit his head, but the impact didn't hurt as much as he was expecting. He felt the cold of the snow against his hands and face as he fell to the ground. He braced himself for another hit, but it didn't come. He moved his gaze over to where the man had been, but he wasn't there. All Vaughn saw was a flash of silver disappearing into the house. He heard the door close._

_The snow was still wet and cold against his left cheek, but he didn't move to get up. With that man gone, he didn't feel like a helpless kid anymore, but he still couldn't feel comfortable._

_The woman had gone inside and the man had followed her, but Vaughn wouldn't worry about her when she was in there. She was safe inside, even if _he_ was there. People like her were safe inside. The man couldn't touch her anymore._

_But Vaughn was still outside. The snow was cold and the nice woman wasn't here anymore. No one was. He suddenly felt very alone. The snow kept falling and the ground still felt cold. It seemed like people were walking by, ignoring him. If they were going to ignore him while he lay there on the frozen, snowy ground, then he could just as easily ignore them back. He didn't need them._

"_Are you okay?"_

_The voice perked Vaughn's ears up. It was similar to the nice woman's but more candid and a little bit less graceful. Vaughn ignored her. He didn't feel like talking, and if he didn't answer, she'd go away. She was probably just like everyone else, anyway._

_A moment passed, and then two. The snow seemed to start melting away and the clouds overhead cleared out. The girl behind him was still there. He knew that she wasn't going to leave now, but maybe he could still ignore her. He didn't look at her and instead focused on the vanishing snow around his head._

"_Isn't it cold on the ground?" She asked. He shrugged, not realizing until a second too late that he was supposed to be trying to ignore her. She tilted her head at him. "Why don't you sit up?"_

_Vaughn sat up. He wasn't facing her—instead, he was looking over a green field. That field hadn't been there before, in the snow. He decided that he didn't hate the way it looked._

_He felt the girl smile behind him. She came over and sat next to him, stumbling slightly on the way. He rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. She could do what she wanted. It didn't really matter to him…_

_They sat in silence for a long time. He didn't know how long it was, but he was sure that it was too long. She had to be bored by then. He was even getting used to her sitting there—it really had been a long time. He glanced around and noticed that all the snow was gone._

"_What happened?"_

_Vaughn looked at her when she spoke. Did she mean…?_

"_Are you okay?"_

_Vaughn scowled and looked at the ground. He wasn't going to tell _her_ anything. She didn't care. No one did. He was all alone in the snow and no one wanted to help him. She couldn't be any different._

"_You don't need to tell me," she sighed, "but I'd like to know."_

_Vaughn felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Shivers ran through his body. He shut his eyes. She didn't want to know… She was lying…_

"_Vaughn," she said, smiling as she leaned towards him. He felt his heart beating and looked over at her. Her blue eyes were so warm and honest and concerned and so, so much like the nice woman's eyes that it felt like a slap when he saw them. She stopped a foot away from his face. "You can let it go now."_

**Ooo**

Vaughn sat up, his chest heaving and his heart going crazy. He ran his hand through his hair, collecting himself. A glance at his clock set his face into a grimace. Had he really managed to sleep in until noon? And with such a weird dream…

Vaughn shook his head, pushing the covers off his feet. He didn't want to think about it. It was just another bad dream… But it was different. It didn't end like the others did. This one ended… _well_.

He pulled his clothes on, trying once again to stop thinking about it. But it just kept plaguing his mind as he continued with his morning routine. Honestly, he could already feel a headache coming on and he'd only been up for ten minutes.

"Damn," he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand. He needed to get his mind cleared. Maybe Mirabelle had some work for him to do, even in this storm. He walked down the hall and out into the shop area.

"Are you sure we should have let her go, Ma?"

"Well, no, but she seemed pretty sure that she'd be alright…"

"But, still—it's gotten worse since she left! What if—what if she, I don't know, tripped and got stuck in some snow or something? Or—"

"What're y'all talkin' about?" Vaughn asked, walking towards Julia and Mirabelle at the counter. They turned to face him. He was expecting some sort of comment about his sleeping in, but they both seemed too worried about something to even notice what time it was.

"Oh, crap," Julia said under her breath, looking a bit nervously at Vaughn like she'd just realized something. He raised his eyebrow and Mirabelle frowned.

"Vaughn, dear, it's nothing. Chelsea just came by earlier for some fodder since she ran out." She explained, obviously trying to make light of the situation. Vaughn felt his mouth contort into a scowl.

"Earlier? Yesterday, right?" He asked, although he already knew what Mirabelle was going to say when he saw her anxious frown.

"No… not yesterday. She was here about an hour ago."

Vaughn didn't even think as he grabbed his coat and burst out the door, leaving two shocked women calling from behind him.

* * *

**Oh, Vaughn. You goober. Did you even stop to think about what you'll say to Chelsea if you find her? Tsk, tsk. So brash.  
**

**So, I want to hear all of your guesses. Where will Vaughn end up finding Chelsea? (Or will he even find her at all? xP) Let me know! I already know where she'll be, but I want to see if anyone will be able to guess it before ths weekend, when I update. **

**Also, Vaughn's dream here also has very significant (and obvious - to me, at least) meaning. Lots of blatant analogy and metaphor used. What does it mean? I'm sure some of you have guessed. Anyone have an idea of what the house represents? I'll let you know later (later, later), but I'd love to hear what you think now.  
**

**I have a field trip on Friday to the Cathedral in Los Angeles and then it's Martin Luther King Day on Monday, so I basically have a four-day-weekend up ahead. Woo! Writing time! :D**

**P.S. Thanks to everyone for voting in my poll! It's still up, but I have a pretty good idea of you guys' opinions now. :3  
**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, guys. You rock my socks xP**


	24. Just a Little Nostalgic

**So the blizzard was supposed to last three chapters, tops. This is the fourth chapter and counting.**

**Onward!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1521  
_

_Date Updated: 1-17-11_

_Current Review Count: 162  
_

* * *

Vaughn clenched his teeth together as he padded through the blizzard, his right arm up to shield his eyes from the snow and ice. He couldn't see a thing though the never-ending whiteness, but he was sure that he was on that damn girl's property by now.

His scowl deepened as he marched forward, his hair being strewn every which direction from the gusts of sharp wind. She was so impossible. Didn't she understand what he meant by "stay inside"? Hell, she probably went outside on purpose, just to piss him off. She _knew_ he was losing his sanity to her, little by little. She was trying to speed it up. Damn farmer.

"Shit," Vaughn muttered, tripping on a hidden rock. He recovered quickly, feeling the ground starting to slope upward—he was at the entrance to her farm. He still wasn't sure if she'd even made it back here safely, since there was no way he would be able to see if she'd left any trail behind through this snow. He could only hope she'd made it back in one piece. He frowned. The odds of that happening were slim-to-none, and he knew that.

After dragging his boots through a few more yards of nearly knee-deep snow, he began to see the outline of a small house. He sighed in something like relief. He'd made it. But had she?

He felt around the wooden wall until he found the doorknob, his arm still up to block out the harsh snow and winds. He pounded the door three solid times, his jaw still clenched.

"Chelsea!" He shouted, pounding on the door once again. After the longest two seconds of his life, his stomach started to drop and his heart felt like it was stopping. Where was she? He pounded again, harder, calling out her name louder. He squinted as the snow seemed to aim right for his eyes. His stomach was still too low in his body and he didn't like the feeling.

Another second passed. Vaughn stopped knocking, leaning his forehead against the door with a resigning sigh. He shut his eyes tiredly, trying to calm himself down and think. Where else would she be…?

And then, just like that, the door opened.

Vaughn's eyes snapped open as he fell forward, into the dimly-lit house. He heard a soft gasp and tried to catch himself on something, but it was no use—he was already halfway to the floor. He managed to stop himself before totally hitting the hardwood, his hands getting the majority of the impact. A second ticked by. He opened his eyes, blinking once at the pair of wide, blue ones below him.

Déjà vu.

He scrambled up, lifting his body off of the shocked farmer. She took the hand he offered to her and pulled herself up, her face flushed and her eyes still wide. Vaughn noticed the door was still open, letting the blizzard inside. He slammed the door shut and sighed, taking a moment to compose himself.

"Uh… Vaughn?"

He slowly turned around and felt his cheeks get hot. She was in her pajamas, dry and safe. Had Mirabelle and Julia lied about her coming to the store? Had he just made a total fool out of himself? He grimaced to himself and reached up to pull his hat down, which, much to his dismay, he'd left back at Mirabelle's shop.

"What are you doing here?" Chelsea asked. He saw her fidgeting with the hem of her flannel shirt, avoiding eye contact with him in a very guilty manner.

"I heard you were at Mirabelle's earlier," Vaughn mumbled, his eyes narrowing. Chelsea's head lowered and her hair—missing its usual bandana, he noticed—blocked him from seeing her face. She sighed, her shoulders shrugging in defeat.

"I… ran out of feed," she explained weakly, looking up at him with apologetic eyes, "I had to feed Daisy, Vaughn. You can understand that, right?"

He could understand that. If she was going to have an excuse, that was the one to have. But he still felt a little bit more than annoyed that she'd gone outside in this weather.

"Y'realize that you could've been _killed_," Vaughn hissed, still glaring at the lanky girl in front of him. She nodded feebly, her lips set in a soft pout. He felt his left eyes twitch. "Honestly, it's like you're _tryin'_ to die."

"I am _not_," she protested, crossing her arms in front of her and frowning up at the cowboy, "I just wouldn't be able to live with myself if Daisy starved, or got sick, or… I don't know. She's more than just my cow… she's… like…"

"Family." Vaughn finished. Chelsea nodded slowly.

"How did you…?" She asked. He sighed, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

"I work with animals for a livin', remember?"

Chelsea opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she was going to say was drowned out by the sudden pounding outside her door. It wasn't like a person's pounding, more like rumbling. Like snow falling in heaps. Vaughn pushed off the wall and glanced over at Chelsea, who shook her head at him, bewildered. She didn't know what was going on, either. He eyed the door for a moment before pulling it open.

Chelsea gasped. His eye twitched. _Perfect_.

There, right in front of him, stood a wall of cold, packed snow.

They were snowed in—stuck until either the snow melted or someone dug them out, neither of which would be happening too soon. Vaughn cursed under his breath, shutting the door to try to preserve what little heat was inside. He sighed and brought one bare hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. This was just great. He was stuck here for Goddess knows how long, and it was cold, and…

"What do we do now?" Chelsea asked quietly from behind him. He turned to face her, almost forgetting she was there. He studied her for a brief moment, his eyes caught on her big, blue gaze. The urge to pull out all his hair suddenly hit him. Why was the Harvest Goddess doing this to him? It was all a scheme—they were all trying to drive him absolutely insane.

With a sigh, he shook his head in mild defeat. "I don't know."

**Ooo**

"So…" Chelsea started, fidgeting awkwardly with the hem of her pajama shirt, "Sure is a crazy storm, huh?"

Vaughn rolled his eyes at the girl sitting next to him. They were both sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall of her single-room farmhouse. Each of them had a blanket wrapped around them, but Chelsea knew that Vaughn was still cold. Even she was still cold, and she was dry. Vaughn's clothes had been soaked through from the blizzard, and he didn't have anything else to change into like she'd had.

When Vaughn didn't reply, Chelsea sighed. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to try and be a little bit nicer. What gives?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," Vaughn mumbled, wishing that he'd remembered his hat. Chelsea rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, come _on_," she said, smiling slightly despite her minor irritation, "You're the meanest guy on the island."

"If I'm so _mean_," he turned his head towards her, raising an eyebrow, "why do you talk to me so much?"

"Well," Chelsea paused, bringing a finger up to tap her lips as she thought. "You might be mean, but you're not _bad_."

"Is there a difference?" Vaughn asked, trying to sound like he didn't care. Chelsea smiled slightly.

"Sure," she nodded, "You might be mean, since you don't talk to people and stuff, but you're not _bad_. If you were bad, why would you save me so many times?"

"Maybe I'm trickin' you." Vaughn mumbled, shutting his eyes and leaning his head beck against the wall. Chelsea laughed.

"Tricking me?" She snorted, surprising Vaughn a bit. "You and I _both_ know that I'm way too annoying for that. You wouldn't put up with me _that_ long for a _trick_."

Vaughn grunted in reply. He really wasn't used to talking this much. Chelsea, on the other hand, was enjoying the conversation.

"Hey, Vaughn," she said, smiling up at the ceiling, "thanks for coming by to check on me, by the way. It sounds weird, but I'm kind of glad that you got stuck here, too—it was getting kind of lonely around here…"

Vaughn opened one eye and glanced at her. She'd lost her smile and her eyes were distant as she watched the snow roaring by her window. He sighed. "You homesick or somethin'?"

"Huh?" She jumped slightly, as if she'd forgotten he was there. Her cheeks turned a soft pink and she sighed lightly. "I'm just… just a little nostalgic, that's all."

"Same difference," Vaughn muttered. Chelsea glared half-heartedly at him.

"Oh, yeah? Well, how about you, cowboy? You're always moving from place to place. Don't you miss your family?"

Vaughn's face wavered for just a moment before it hardened. His voice was cold as he spoke.

"My family's dead."

* * *

**Well, there you have it. Chelsea actually made it back safely. I wonder if her klutziness is cured? ...Ha, yeah right. The Universe is out to get her.**

**The next chapter should be out by this time next week. I have an intense amount of stuff to do tomorrow, so I shouldn't plan on writing at all, but... I really want to! I know what happens and everything, but... Blurg. Dang school, always getting in the way...**

**In case you were wondering about the results of my recent poll, I've set it so that it's no longer blind. Feel free to drop by and see the results so far!**

**Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving, and alerting. You guys are the best. Seriously :D**

**BTW I'M A BETA NOW BD**


	25. The Past Is the Past

**All right. I managed to do it. Busy, busy weekend here guys. Like, intensely busy. Bahaha.**

**Vaughn's past is explained! Go forth and read. xD  
**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1519  
_

_Date Updated: 1-23-11_

_Current Review Count: 169_

* * *

"Wh… what?" Chelsea furrowed her brow, turning her whole body to face the irritated cowboy. Had she heard him right? His family was… dead?

Vaughn fell silent for several moments, mentally slapping himself, cursing silently. He hadn't meant to say that. He was never going to tell anyone again. Not after what had happened last time.

"Vaughn…?" Chelsea asked quietly, reminding Vaughn that he had gotten himself into a very unfortunate situation. He could feel her eyes boring into him, trying so hard to read him. It had been a while since someone had tried that. They'd all given up on him.

Then it clicked. It _really_ clicked. Finally, it came together in his head. An epiphany. A weird realization that made him feel relieved and conflicted. Mostly conflicted.

She hadn't given up on him. She was still trying. She cared.

Maybe he _could_ tell her…

"They're dead," he repeated, bringing his stone gaze up to the ceiling. Chelsea swallowed from beside him, still watching. She remained silent, but he knew that she was listening intently. She leaned forward, her eyebrows knit together in concern.

"What… happened?" She asked, a hint of sadness mixed with the curiosity in her voice. She suddenly leaned back, sucking in a breath. "Oh! I'm sorry—you don't need to—!"

"I was eight," he cut her off, almost smirking at her. She was such a kid. "My dad wasn't the greatest guy."

"Is that an understatement?" Chelsea asked, sensing where he could be going with this.

"You could say that," he nodded once, not taking his glare off the ceiling. "My Ma used to tell me he was real great before I was born, and even when I was a little kid. But then he got bad."

He paused to glance down at the farmer, making sure she wasn't… well, to make sure she seemed like she cared. Her blue eyes were wider than usual, enlarged by curiosity. The crease on her forehead told him that she was worried. She cared what he was saying.

"He started drinkin'. I figure he must've missed his old way of livin'. He was a theif." He explained, earning a confused look from Chelsea.

"A theif?" She repeated. "Why would your mom…"

"Beats me," Vaughn shook his head slowly, remembering his mother's face. She was so independent and strong-willed, with purple eyes like his. "She just liked the bad kind, I reckon."

"Hm…" Chelsea pursed her lips, thinking. Vaughn continued, his voice growing quieter. Chelsea had to lean in closer to hear him over the storm pounding on her walls.

"He would come home real late, stone-drunk. Now when I think 'bout it, I'm surprised he was able to get around," Vaughn paused, recollecting his thoughts. He didn't want to say more than he had to. "He'd hit Ma pretty hard, but she did a pretty good job of keepin' me away from him. Not all the time, though."

"So… he hit you?" Chelsea's voice surprised him. It was abnormally quiet, and rather sad. He shrugged, not wanting to look at her. He could already feel her gaping at him. He realized that she was probably going to cry. He sighed, but continued.

"Ma was too stubborn to call anyone for help. I guess she'd been told he was no good or somethin' and she didn't want her pride to suffer by goin' and tellin' all them she was wrong. Then one night he came home, all sideways. I knew what was comin' and hid, but Ma didn't. He must've hit her too hard or in the wrong spot or somethin', 'cuz he managed to knock 'er out so she wouldn't get up again.

"He figured out what he did and I saw him stumble out, trippin' and cursin' the whole way. I didn't see him again. The cops told me that they'd both gone away for a long time. But I knew as soon as she fell down that she wasn't gonna get up 'gain.

"They pushed me 'round after that. None of my relatives wanted to take me in, so I went to foster homes, mostly. As you might've guessed, I didn't make a whole lot of friends. As soon as I could, I got my job with the company. And here we are."

Vaughn finished, his throat feeling uncomfortable from talking so much. He cleared it, frowning. Chelsea was still quiet. He grimaced to himself—she was probably crying. And he was stuck here, too—no way to get away from it. After several tense moments, he glanced her way. She was watching him sadly, but her eyes were dry. She gave him a small smile—a smile meant to reassure. His heart fluttered.

"What was she like?" She asked, leaning her shoulder against the wall, still watching him with tender blue eyes. He felt like he'd seen that look before, but in violet eyes instead of blue.

"She was… nice," he said, shrugging. Chelsea shook her head, rolling her eyes lightly.

"What did she look like?"

"Brown hair. Purple eyes. She smiled a lot." Vaughn said, pulling his mother's image up in his mind. It was a little fuzzy.

"What was she like, besides being nice?" Chelsea asked, squinting slightly as she tried to imagine the woman who'd raised Vaughn. Vaughn sighed.

"I dunno. She liked to laugh. And she was real headstrong. She never gave up on anythin'. She also kept to herself most of the time. She liked animals and plants a lot. She was a farmer, too."

"Really?" Chelsea's eyes lit up. Vaughn chuckled before he could stop himself. Chelsea smiled. "Where did she farm?"

"Forget-Me-Not," Vaughn replied. Chelsea's eyes widened slightly.

"_Forget-Me-Not Valley_?" She asked, her jaw slack. "But… that's right next to Mineral Town! I've been to Forget-Me-Not tons of times, and the only farm is Marlin and Celia's…"

"Not the only farm," Vaughn said, leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed. Chelsea blinked in realization.

"You mean the old farm was your mom's?"

Vaughn nodded.

"And that's where you grew up?"

He nodded once again.

"…How old are you?"

Vaughn raised his eyebrow at her, opening his eyes. "Twenty-five. Why?"

Chelsea blushed. "I just wanted to see if I'd ever met you before."

"I doubt it," he said, leaning back again. "You're what? Eighteen? I left the Valley right after they died. You were probably too young."

"I'm _nine_teen," Chelsea corrected, sighing, "and you're right. I was like two when this happened, and my mom didn't start selling produce to the Valley until I was six."

"Was your mom a farmer, too?" Vaughn asked, curiosity getting the better of him. If he spilled his guts to her, the least she could do was tell him a little about her past.

"She still is," Chelsea smiled proudly. "And my dad's the only blacksmith in Mineral Town, since my grandpa retired."

A thought occurred to Vaughn and he tried to suppress a twitch. "Is your mom blonde?"

"Yeah," Chelsea nodded, looking at Vaughn warily. "And she's got blue eyes. She's sort of short, like me. Why?"

Vaughn blinked. So it was her _mom_ he'd run in to at the Valley before. "No reason."

"If you say so…" she trailed off, raising an eyebrow skeptically. A silence fell over the two. It wasn't awkward at all, and not quite tense, but it also wasn't totally comfortable. Chelsea was still digesting everything that Vaughn had told her. His parents were both dead. He had a drunk, abusive father. He was pushed around foster homes until he was old enough to work, and then he got a job and shut everyone out…

"Vaughn," Chelsea said, breaking the silence. He looked down at her, a bit anxious. He still was out of his element after having shared so much about himself. She looked up at him, her eyes earnest. "Why didn't you tell any of us before? Mirabelle, Julia, me… We all just wanted to help."

Vaughn scowled lightly. "Last time I told someone, it didn't end well."

"What happened?" Chelsea asked. She cringed at herself—maybe he didn't want to share that. But he did seem to be in a more talkative mood today.

"I was just starting my job," Vaughn sighed. He might as well tell her. "Someone asked. I told 'im. Next thing I know, I'm the talk of the company. No one wanted anythin' t'do with me. Said somethin' 'bout violence bein' a family trait…"

"That's stupid," Chelsea frowned. Vaughn raised his eyebrows at her. She scowled, meeting his gaze. "No one should judge you for your past. You're _not_ your dad."

Vaughn could have smiled at her. She was so confident as she said that. He wondered if she knew that was exactly what he'd always needed to hear.

"Thanks," Vaughn mumbled, reaching up for his hat and grabbing at the empty air. Chelsea laughed at his expression. Vaughn sighed, embarrassed. He glanced over at her and felt his face heat up slightly. Her laugh was a sound he might be able to get used to.

* * *

**D'aww. This is a turning point, guys. The Winter of Angst is ending soon, even though we're not quite through with the season... I wish were were, though. I want to write about Spring. The weather over here is like spring all of a sudden.**

**Stay tuned for the next installment. The snowstorm isn't over yet... and I wanted to apologize to people who were expecting something more physical to happen this chapter (that sounds so awkward xP). It didn't fit. At all. Have patience, please - you will be greatly rewarded. I swear.**

**IMPORTANT: From this Friday, 1/28 until Sunday, 1/30 I'll be on a math/science club field trip to Catalina Island, where there is no internet. Or computers. So that means I can't update next weekend. There's a 15% chance I'll be able to update before then. Odds are, it'll have to be the week (or weekend) after. If it is the weekend after, I'll see if I can do a double-update. I'm sorry!**

**Thanks for all the reviews, you guys. I love all of you. Seriously. I do.  
**


	26. Cold Feet

**Ugh. Sickness. Blarg. A very choppy update for you all. See bottom A/N for info regarding the double-update.**

**Enjoy if you can :P**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1616  
_

_Date Updated: 2-6-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 180_

* * *

Cold feet. That's the first thing that Chelsea recognized as she felt herself being tugged back into consciousness. The second thing she realized was that those feet weren't hers.

Her eyebrows furrowed together as her mind was filled with sleepy confusion. Since when had there been two extra, freezing feet in her bed? And when had her bed gotten so hard? Was she… sitting up? At least her pillow was still comfortable…

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open as she took in a deep, tired breath. She immediately shut them, though, when they burned form exposure to light and air. She groaned quietly, pulling her blanket closer to her body and snuggling herself up closer to her large pillow. Once she was finally comfortable again, she yawned and readied herself for a few more hours of sleep—she felt absolutely exhausted. In the back of her mind, she congratulated herself on remembering to bring such a big, comfortable pillow from home…

Wait. She didn't have any pillows from home, and the one that was in the farmhouse certainly wasn't this comfortable. What on earth was—?

"Chelsea! Chelsea, are you there?"

Chelsea's eyes shot open as her pillow suddenly moved, startled by the muffled call from outside. She froze, suddenly aware of a quickening heartbeat beneath her ear. The faint smell of hay and rain made its presence known to her and she could feel the air stop circulating around the room. Her "pillow" was now completely still—just like she was. She could feel her face slowly burning up as she remembered the situation.

Vaughn had been stuck in her house overnight due to the blizzard. They must have fallen asleep… and she'd mistaken him for her pillow at some point.

She blushed harder as she realized how really comfortable and warm and nice it felt.

"Chelsea? Chels, can you hear us?" This was a different voice than before—it was distinctly feminine, not the same boyish call from before. The sound of scuffling outside her front door and jiggling of the doorknob surprised her—hadn't her front door been blocked by snow?

The doorknob jiggled again. Then the front door swung wide open, making both Chelsea and her… _pillow_ jump up, slapped out of their embarrassed daze. Chelsea tugged on the hem of her sleep-shirt self-consciously, focusing her gaze downward to block her cherry-red face from everyone else's view.

"Oh my goddess," Julia sighed, relief visibly relaxing her as she came inside, "You're okay."

Mirabelle appeared next, along with Elliot, Natalie, and Taro. The plump woman smiled and rushed over to Chelsea, smiling. "Oh, you made it back—and Vaughn is here, too," she turned towards him, frowning slightly, "You had us worried sick, young man. Rushing out into the storm like that without even listening to us first. You could have been killed—both of you!"

"Sorry, Mirabelle," Chelsea muttered, looking up shyly. At least no one had made any comments about—

"Are y-you feeling alright, Chelsea?" Elliot asked quietly, hanging back as far from Vaughn as he politely could. "Your face is awfully red."

Chelsea's face immediately flamed up hotter, and Natalie smirked form her spot near the door. "Aw, Chelsea's blushing. Did we interrupt anything?"

"N-no," Chelsea frowned, irritated as Julia giggled behind her. She sighed, deciding not to make any further comments. She knew that she couldn't talk her way out of Natalie's teasing.

"Chelsea," Taro rasped from the doorway, "There's some good news—the storm didn't leave nearly as much of an impact on your field as I thought it would. You shouldn't need t'clear it much for your spring crops."

"Spring?" Chelsea repeated, half confused and half relieved—she was glad that the subject had changed. "Is it really almost spring?"

"Well, it's the seventeenth—but with Starry Night and the New Year's festivals coming up, it seems like a lot less than two weeks. Trust me, Missy."

"Oh," she said, the idea of spring coming brightening her mood significantly. Spring meant warmth, food, and crops. "That's great!"

"Well, we'll let you be," Taro said, turning towards the door. He beckoned to Elliot and Natalie to follow, and, with one final skeptical glance Vaughn's way, left.

Mirabelle smiled. "Chelsea, Honey, how about you join us for lunch today? It's the least you could do after scaring us like that."

"Uh…" Chelsea trailed off. Food sounded really good right then. But how awkward would it be to eat with them if Vaughn was there, too? She could already tell from the look on Julia's face that she was ready for teasing. And she also knew that as much as she hated to be teased, Vaughn hated it more.

"C'mon, Chels," Julia smiled, "We'll have peanut butter and honey sandwiches."

"Okay," Chelsea agreed, cursing her friend for knowing her favorite food. Mirabelle beamed, then turned to Vaughn.

"Vaughn, you'll join us, too, won't you?"

"Can't," he grunted, and Chelsea noticed he'd pulled his boots and coat back on, "Got t'catch the ferry."

"Oh," Mirabelle frowned, "that's right—it's Friday."

He nodded and headed for the door. Chelsea could almost see the waves of discomfort rolling off his body. He opened the door, hesitated for half a second, then continued out. Chelsea sighed softly to herself. That cowboy really was a tough one.

**Ooo**

Vaughn opened the door to Mirabelle's guest room and set his small suitcase on the bed. He pulled clean clothing from it and began to change, trying to slow down his mind. His face still felt warm, even after the short trek to Mirabelle's from the ranch. After pulling on a dry vest and setting his hat back on his head where it belonged, he sat down on the bed, sighing deeply. Why had he gone and told her all those things? He hadn't even known her for more than two seasons. Sure, she seemed like she cared about it. And yeah, she'd understood him alright. But how did he know that she wouldn't go blabber it all over the island? He hadn't told her it was a secret—but, then again, it was pretty strongly implied that he didn't want many people to know. He'd figured that she knew that. He figured that he could trust her.

Why was he suddenly such an idiot?

Just then, he heard the front door open and three female voices that he recognized—Mirabelle, Julia, and Chelsea. Damn it. He'd been hoping to be at the beach before they got back.

"Alright, girls. I'll start the food." Mirabelle's voice said, followed by heavy footsteps into the kitchen area. Julia and Chelsea seemed to stay back in the shop area. He cursed under his breath—if there was someone that Chelsea would tell his little story to, it would be her best friend, Julia. And Julia would tell everyone else.

Slipping on his boots and grabbing his bag, Vaughn stepped quietly into the hallway, hoping to hear the two girls in the shop a little better. He stopped just around the corner, out of their line of sight but close enough to hear them clearly. If he tilted his head, he could see Chelsea leaning against the counter in an attempt to be nonchalant with Julia smirking her way.

"So?" Julia asked, her smirk growing.

"Hm?" Chelsea frowned.

"So, what happened last night?" Julia urged. Vaughn cringed, realizing how many things someone could assume happened with him getting stuck at Chelsea's place overnight. He hoped that Riley wouldn't get wind of this.

"What do you mean?" Chelsea asked, feigning ignorance. Vaughn rolled his eyes. She was horrible at playing innocent.

"You know what I mean," Julia raised her eyebrow, "You. Vaughn. Your house. Snowstorm. _Stuck overnight_."

"Oh," Chelsea said, crossing her arms uncomfortably, "That."

"Yeah, _that_," Julia's smirk was back, "So, you have any juicy details, or will I have to find the pictures?"

"You are the most perverted person I've ever met," Chelsea frowned. "Nothing happened."

"I don't believe you."

"You should."

"But I don't."

Chelsea fell silent. Vaughn could hear alarms going off in his head—she was going to tell Julia. He knew it—she couldn't be trusted. It was a mistake to tell her anything. She was a mistake.

"Fine," Chelsea sighed, "I'll tell you."

"Yes!" Julia squealed. Vaughn twitched, getting ready to burst into the room screaming. Chelsea smiled slyly.

"He told me…" She paused, smirking at Julia's antsy impatience.

"Yeah?" Julia prompted.

"He told me that I'm the most beautiful girl in the world and that he loves me and he asked me to marry him."

What the hell?

"...Really?" Julia asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"No," Chelsea snorted, laughter bubbling up, "Like he would say anything like that, Julia."

"Then what _did_ he say?"

"Nothing," Chelsea shrugged. Vaughn's stomach dropped in relief. She wasn't saying anything after all. He could trust her…

"I still don't buy it," Julia said, "But whatever."

Vaughn decided that eavesdropping any longer would be unnecessary—and the boat to the city was leaving soon—so he took this as his cue to leave his hiding spot. He pulled his hat down as he walked into the room, but he could still feel both girls' eyes on him. The air grew suddenly tense—he knew that they were both hoping that he hadn't heard their little conversation from moments before. As he opened the door and stepped outside, a familiar voice stopped him.

"See you next week, Vaughn?"

He turned around and tipped his hat to the farmer. "Next week."

The door closed behind him. As he stepped through the snow, he could just hear Julia shriek, "He actually _answers_ you?"

* * *

**Warharhar.**

**Okay, so, I promised you all a double-update this week because I didn't update last week. It's Sunday afternoon right now, and I haven't started any of my weekend homework, and I'm getting sick... So, pretty much, I may not be able to update again today. But I might be able to. Probably not. If I can't this week, then there will be at least one double-update in the month of February.**

**Also, I suddenly realized last weekend when I was on that island that Vaughn and Chelsea haven't done squat in the romantic-department and we're already at chapter 26. I'm even getting antsy for this. Seriously. I just wanted to let you guys know that it'll be damn worth the wait. Not... not, like, M-rated worth it. But worth it. _Seriously_.**

**Of course, I can't say how soon or how far off that'll be. But we're getting closer. xP**

**How was this update? Review and let me know, please!**


	27. A Honey Lemon Remedy

**I actually kind of wrote this two days ago. And then forgot it. But now I remembered! BD**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1369  
_

_Date Updated: 2-11-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 190_

* * *

"Hey, man, I heard you got snowed in on that island for an extra day," Riley said, walking up to Vaughn as the cowboy was walking off the pier at the city. "You missed your boat to the Valley, then, huh?"

"Yeah," Vaughn grunted, feeling strangely inclined to answer his coworker. Riley laughed.

"Well, how was the extra day? Did anything happen with her?"

Vaughn sighed as they turned a corner, heading towards Vaughn's apartment building. Riley sure seemed interested in his and Chelsea's relationship. He inwardly cringed—it was weird, saying that he and Chelsea had a "relationship". The word seemed to imply something else, something that wasn't there…

"Well?" Riley's voice snapped Vaughn back into reality. He noticed that they were already inside the building and climbing stairs to Vaughn's floor.

"Nothin' much," Vaughn muttered, switching his bag from one hand to the other. He briefly entertained the thought of telling Riley that Chelsea now knew about Vaughn's past. Riley would freak out, he was sure. He'd probably make up some crap about how Vaughn was slowly opening up and that that girl was healing him or something.

Vaughn couldn't help it—he rolled his eyes. Even the thought of Riley's little psychological diagnoses had him mildly irritated.

"'Nothing much'? Aw, c'mon, Vaughn. _Something_ had to have happened."

"You're right." Vaughn stopped outside the door to his apartment and turned to face his eager friend. As much as he knew he'd regret this, the reaction Riley was bound to have would probably be worth it. "I told 'er."

Riley fell silent for all of two seconds before exploding. "You _what_?"

"I told 'er."

"Told her… _that_?"

"Yeah," Vaughn nodded, trying not to smirk at Riley's bewildered face. So worth it.

"_Seriously_?"

Vaughn nodded.

"Woah," Riley exhaled, still not quite believing the cowboy. He raised an eyebrow, curious. "So, what did she say?"

Vaughn opened the door to his apartment and stepped in. "Exactly what she was supposed to."

Riley gaped after Vaughn as the door closed. "So _what did she say_?"

**Ooo**

Chelsea's head whipped forward as a sneeze suddenly surfaced from her. Julia raised her eyebrows, handing the sniffling farmer a tissue from the counter of the animal shop.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Chelsea nodded, accepting the tissue with a grateful smile and wiping her nose. "Just a little cold or something. It'll go away."

"It won't if you don't rest," Julia warned, standing up and walking into the kitchen to put a kettle on. "Do you think you got it during the storm?"

"Probably," Chelsea sighed, trying to ignore the dull pounding in the back of her head. "But it's already Monday. The storm was three days ago—you'd think my symptoms would've shown up before now."

"Maybe they have and you've been ignoring them," Julia said, placing the water-filled teapot on the stove and turning it on. Chelsea huffed as she folded her arms across her chest.

"I wouldn't ignore them," she said, twirling around on her stool. Julia rolled her eyes.

"You totally would. You're the type of person who can't stand being sick. Am I right?"

Chelsea sighed. Was she really that predictable? "Yeah, well, that doesn't mean I'm purposefully neglecting my health."

"Then you'll promise me to stay in bed at home for the next few days?"

"But what about Starry Night?" Chelsea frowned, remembering the holiday and its closing proximity. She didn't particularly want to be stuck in bed while everyone else was eating with friends, family, and loved ones. Chelsea saw Julia hesitate, but the blonde still didn't seem like she'd change her mind.

"Starry Night's in four days," she said, reaching in the cupboard for something, "If you really rest, that should be plenty of time to get better."

"I doubt it," Chelsea muttered under her breath, thinking about the ever-frigid temperature of her house. Julia didn't see to hear her.

"Speaking of Starry Night," Julia started, rejoining Chelsea at the counter in the shop, "I was hoping that Elliot would ask me to eat with him… but he hasn't said a word. Do you think he doesn't see me like that, or…?"

"Naw, Jules," Chelsea said, waving her hand, "He's just shy. I'll bet you anything that he likes you as more than a friend. He's just too scared to say anything."

"Really?" Julia blushed, giggling. Chelsea couldn't help but smile at her lovesick friend. People really did seem out of it when they were in love. "So what should I do?"

"I don't know," Chelsea shrugged, leaning back and sniffling slightly. "Do I really seem like the person to go to for romantic advice? Honestly, I've never even had a boyfriend before."

"You haven't?" Julia asked, seeming genuinely surprised—much to Chelsea's displeasure. "That's surprising."

"Why?" Chelsea asked, a light frown settling on her face. "DO I seem like the kind of girl who's had dozens of boyfriends or something?"

"Oh, no, no," Julia shook her head, smiling slightly, "I didn't mean it like that. It's just that you're so nice and stuff. Usually nice girls with pretty faces have had at least one relationship."

"I'm only nineteen," Chelsea protested, an irrational shame suddenly flushing her face. She felt like some sort of prude or something. "And there weren't really any guys where I grew up. None my age, at least. They were all too young or too old for me."

"You don't need to make excuses or anything," Julia laughed, making Chelsea flush harder. "It's totally fine. Just surprising. Especially considering how well you get along with some of the guys here…"

"What do you mean?" Chelsea asked, narrowing her eyes. She finally got a grip on her face and cooled it off to a normal color.

"I mean the way you seem to connect so well with a certain cowboy we both know," Julia smirked. Chelsea cringed as she lost control and her face heated up to a lovely lobster-red.

"What do you mean?" She asked, feigning nonchalance. Julia laughed at the farmer's expression.

"He talks to you, Chels. He doesn't talk to anyone else except for Ma—and that's only when he has to. And you should've seen the look on his face when he found out that you'd wandered out into that blizzard. It was like he'd seen a ghost. A ghost that he wanted to murder."

"O…kay?" Chelsea swallowed, coughing slightly as her throat tightened up. She was sure that her face couldn't get any more red. Had he really been that worried about her? Even if he was, she surely wasn't the _only_ one he cared that much about. Julia was exaggerating. She had to be.

"Chels," Julia started with a hushed voice, leaning forward slightly. Chelsea looked over at her, startled by the sudden seriousness in her friend's eyes. "I really think he l—"

The kettle on the stove started squealing, blocking whatever Julia was saying from reaching Chelsea's ears. Julia sighed and raced over to turn off the burner. Chelsea watched as she grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured some water in it, followed by a couple spoons of lemon juice from the fridge and a hearty pouring of honey. Chelsea eyed the steaming mug curiously as Julia brought it back over.

"What's that?" Chelsea asked, nodding towards the cup of light yellow liquid. Julia set it down in front of the cold-stricken farmer.

"My mom's cold remedy," she said, sitting leaning against the counter. "She always makes this whenever I catch a cold. It clears your nose and helps your throat. Come on over here whenever and I'll make you some more—it's just about the only recipe that I can't screw up."

"Thanks," Chelsea said, picking up the mug. She let the warm porcelain heat her hands as she breathed in the steam. It smelled like honey. She took a sip and nearly gagged. "Ugh—it's so bitter!"

"That's the lemon in it," Julia grinned. "But the aftertaste isn't that bad. How's your throat now?"

"…Better."

"See? It works. Drink up." Julia said, motioning to the nearly-full mug. Chelsea grimaced.

"Do I have to?"

"Do you want to be better by Starry Night?"

"…Fine."

* * *

**I am very pleased that Chelsea ended up being sick when I got sick. I am still sick, in fact. Missed three days of school - we still have class here, since it's like 80 degrees outside and not snowing. Anyways, I want to update again this weekend for that promised double-update. Chelsea's got a bug and I want to write about it before mine goes away xP**

**And that drink that Julia made Chelsea really works. Just sayin'. 1 1/2 tablespoons of lemon juice and honey to taste into a mug of boiling water and BAM - throat and nose relief for up to two hours.**

**I have some makeup work to do. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Is there a cold going around where you guys are, too?**


	28. Consider Yourself Warned

**Hey, hey, hey, guess what? check out the update date and the published date of this fic. Right now. Please.**

**:D**

**ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY :DDD**

**And... Over 200 reviews! You guys make my life so happy. Congrats to shanagi95 for getting the 200th review! xP**

**Now read :3**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1269  
_

_Date Updated: 2-21-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 207  
_

* * *

"We have now arrived on Sunny Island!"

Vaughn sighed at the voice booming over the speakers on the small boat. He was the only one on the passage besides the sailors. He could see that they had reached the island. It was really unnecessary for the captain to announce it like that.

Picking up his bag, Vaughn made his way down the ramp and onto the dock in the softly-falling snow. He glanced around the beach, surprised at how peaceful it was—it seemed to be a stark contrast to what the island had looked like last week during the storm. But now the waves were slowly pushing and pulling their way along the sand and the ground had a perfect blanket of white draped over it. He sighed again and ignored the white cloud of breath that swirled in front of him as he continued up towards the Animal Shop for another day's work.

His boots tore holes in that perfect blanket as he marched up the path. He shifted his gaze and managed to have it fall on the farm at the end of the road. How was Chelsea doing? Was her house as cold inside as it was outside? Maybe she'd—

He shook his head, dropping his eyes to study the snow on the ground. He really needed to stop worrying about the damn girl. He had so many other things that could be occupying his mind. So many more important things. He used to be so good about keeping his thoughts in-line.

Why did that have to change?

He pushed the door to the shop open and let the wall of heat hit him square in the face, making him realize how numb his nose and cheeks felt. Julia beamed up at him from behind the counter, catching him slightly off-guard—she'd never been so welcoming to him before…

"Vaughn, welcome back! Isn't it beautiful today?" She sighed happily, not even noticing the skeptical look Vaughn sent her. She was lucky he was in a decent mood. If he wasn't, she'd be receiving one intense glare. But he didn't really feel like glaring. In fact, he realized, he hadn't felt like glaring at all this whole past week. Weird.

"What's got int'you?" Vaughn asked, rolling his eyes as she giggled.

"Oh, nothing," she sighed again, smiling at nothing. Vaughn frowned slightly. She was acting like a total idiot.

"Well, where's Mirabelle?" He asked, hoping to just get to work at leave Julia alone to her insanity. Julia motioned to the kitchen jut as Mirabelle peeked her head out.

"I'm in here, Vaughn. Did your boat come in late today?" She asked as she disappeared behind the wall again. Vaughn walked over, glancing at the clock. It was already after noon—he grimaced to himself. He hated being late. Mirabelle didn't seem to mind, though. She was busy cutting up vegetable and tossing them into a large pot on the stove.

"I reckon it did," he said, pulling down at his hat, "Sorry, ma'am."

"Hm?" Mirabelle looked up at him. She laughed and waved it off. "Oh, don't you worry about it. I'm actually a bit surprised you came at all today, what with it being the day before Starry Night and all. Are you still going to be here tomorrow, too?"

Vaughn raised an eyebrow to himself. Was it already the twenty-fourth? Before he could come up with anything to say, Mirabelle continued.

"We'd love to have you, you know. Well, I would, at least. Julia won't be here—she's going over to eat with Elliot and his family this year."

That explains Julia's ditzy mood. Vaughn pursed his lips. He was usually working on Starry Night, and if he wasn't, he never made a big deal out of the holiday. In fact, he never really did anything to celebrate it. He wasn't so sure he was willing to change that…

"Ma," Julia said, walking into the kitchen, "You were invited to eat with us, too—did you forget?"

"Was I?" Mirabelle asked, frowning in thought. Julia nodded vigorously.

"Yes, you were! You said you would, too. Felicia was going to make stir-fried veggies and spa-boiled eggs, remember?"

"Oh—you're right," Mirabelle nodded, her face slowly relaxing with realization. She turned to Vaughn, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Vaughn. I can ask Felicia if you can join us, too—"

"No," Vaughn interrupted, "S'alright. I don't eat stir-fried veggies anyway."

Julia raised an eyebrow at him. He frowned. Was it obvious that he just didn't want to eat with all those people he didn't know?

"Are you sure, Vaughn?" Mirabelle pressed, looking guilty about leaving him with no plans. "I'd hate for you to be eating alone on Starry Night."

He scoffed in his mind. She didn't need to worry about that—he was used to it. But she wasn't going to be accepting that answer… He decided to lie. "I have plans, so it's fine."

"You do?" Julia asked, surprised. Mirabelle gave her a stern look and then smiled back at Vaughn.

"That's lovely, Vaughn! Then it's all settled. We're leaving here around four o'clock tomorrow evening and we won't be getting back until late. Where do you need to be for your plans?"

"Uh," he paused, trying to think of something. Lying was always such a hassle. "…I'm not sure yet, actually."

"Oh," Mirabelle said. "Well, maybe you should leave early, then, so you can figure out where you're going."

Vaughn sighed. It didn't matter to him when he left for his "plans". He would probably just be camping out in the Diner or, if that was closed, walking around the forest. He nodded in agreement and left the kitchen, heading outside to go check on the animals in the barn. He wasn't two yards from the door of the shop when he heard it open and quick footsteps following him.

"Hey, Vaughn," Julia's voice said from behind him. He turned around and looked at her expectantly from beneath the rim of his hat.

"Yeah?" He asked, eyeing the silver thermos in her hand. She held it out to him.

"Ma wanted you to take this over to Chelsea for her."

Vaughn plucked the hot thermos from the blonde's grip. "What's in it?"

"Just some soup," Julia said, shrugging. "Ma's been a bit worried about Chelsea getting enough food since she got sick."

"Sick?" Vaughn repeated, frowning. His stomach felt empty all of a sudden. "What kind of sick?"

"A cold, nothing serious. She's been back on her farm with it since Monday."

Vaughn nodded, absorbing the information. Inside, he was rolling his eyes at the farmer. She _would_ get sick that easily.

"So will you give it to her?" Julia asked, breaking the silence that had formed. Vaughn nodded and started walking up the path.

"Sure."

"Hold on," Julia said, putting up a hand and stopping the cowboy in front of her. "One more thing."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"I'm onto you," she said, her voice lower than it was before. Vaughn narrowed his eyes.

"What—?"

"I know how you feel about Chelsea, Vaughn," she said, her own eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to warn you. She's _innocent_. If you do anything to—"

"What the hell're you talkin' 'bout?" Vaughn growled, his face pink. Julia took a step away from him, her eyes still narrowed suspiciously.

"Don't play around with her, Vaughn. I don't want to see her come out of this hurt."

And then she walked back inside, leaving Vaughn utterly confused in the falling snow.

* * *

**Okay, so, I know I said last weekend I'd do the double-update. But then my brain exploded form being sick. So I was like "Oh, hey, it's a long weekend this week, so I'll do it then."**

**LIES**

**Yeah. I tried to do two chapters today, but then life interfered and I could only get one written. I would have done two, but... Well, Castle came on. Does anyone watch that show? Go Youtube it. It's so awesome. Anywho, it came on, and now it's after eleven and I have school tomorrow. And a root canal. But I digress.**

**I will do the double-update before February ends, as I promised. I'll try to update again this week before the weekend. Thanks for reading this chapter, by the way. What did you think?**


	29. Change of Heart

**GAHH**

**I FAIL**

**JUST... JUST READ IT ;-;**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1400  
_

_Date Updated: 3-9-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 225_

* * *

Chelsea honestly felt like she was winning the staring match she was having with that speck of dust on her ceiling. Really, she did. But that speck was stubborn—they'd been at this competition for at least an hour and it had barely made any signs of moving or giving up. If she kept going for just a little while longer…

Three strong knocks suddenly echoed through her still house, breaking her free from her reverie. Her eyes snapped over to the door before she realized what she was doing. She scowled—she'd admitted defeat.

"Damn it," Chelsea muttered under her breath as she rolled herself off of her bed and over to the door. As she pulled it open and the outside cold air mixed with the inside cold air, she scowled. "This better be good."

A silver thermos was held out in front of her. "Y'in a bad mood'r somethin'?"

"Oh, Vaughn," Chelsea laughed, her throat squeezing and making it sound more like a cough, "Sorry. I was just… uh, never mind. Do you want to come in? Oh, but you might catch my cold…"

"I don't get sick." Vaughn said, handing the thermos to the farmer as they moved the conversation inside, "Mirabelle made you some soup."

"Oh," Chelsea smiled, looking the thermos over and basking in its heat on her hands. "How sweet of her. She didn't need to do this."

"Julia said she's worried 'bout you," Vaughn frowned. Chelsea blinked.

"Why? I'm fine."

"Y'don't sound fine," Vaughn muttered, fiddling with his hat. Chelsea frowned.

"Well, I'm getting a lot better. My throat isn't as sore. And my head doesn't hurt. And I'm not sneezing as much."

Vaughn raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "Y'still sound sick."

"Well, then don't tell Julia," Chelsea sighed, leaning against the table in the middle of the room. Vaughn furrowed his brow, clearly confused. Chelsea elaborated. "She told me I can't go eat with them on Starry Night if I'm still sick. I don't blame her or anyth—"

"Julia and Mirabelle are eatin' with Taro and Felicia and them," Vaughn said, then instantly regretted it when he saw Chelsea's face sink. She blinked at him, her eyes looking confused and a little bit betrayed.

"Are they?" Chelsea asked quietly. "I thought that… Why wouldn't Julia tell me that she can't eat with me before I try this hard to get better by tomorrow? This is…" She trailed off, shaking her head and biting down slightly on her lip.

Vaughn frowned. Julia had told Chelsea that they'd eat together, then? And then Julia reneged on their deal without telling Chelsea. Vaughn's frown deepened as Chelsea's eyes became distant and a little misty. She spoke again before he could even think of what to say.

"You know, this will be my first Starry Night I've ever been alone."

The words hit Vaughn like a punch to the gut. She wasn't used to being alone, unlike him. In fact, she seemed to thrive on company—the complete opposite of how he worked. He liked being alone, but Chelsea? He knew that she missed her family, but why did she leave them in the first place? And why didn't she just go out and visit them, or have them come out to visit her?

"Why can't you and your family meet up or something for the festival?"

To his surprise, this seemed to make Chelsea more upset. She was still far from shedding tears, though, much to his relief.

"I never did tell you that I ran away to come here, did I?" She said, smiling slightly at him. He raised his eyebrows. She didn't seem like the runaway type.

"Naw. Y'didn't." He said, waiting for her to elaborate. She shook her head, still smiling.

"I've always wanted a farm of my own. My parents' farm is great, but I need to do my own thing. I can't just stay with them my whole life, you know? So I started saving up all my money from allowances and little odd-jobs around town.

"Years went by, and suddenly I'm an adult… still living with my parents. So when I found an ad in the paper for a cheap farm in Flowerbud Village, I decided to buy it. Without telling my parents."

"Why didn't you tell 'em?" Vaughn interrupted, frowning slightly. Chelsea shrugged, her face heating up a bit.

"I don't really know. I guess I was afraid they wouldn't let me go."

Vaughn nodded. Chelsea smiled sheepishly and continued.

"I took an early ferry to the city, almost fell off the boat, walked around the city, almost got run over, and then hurried back to catch my boat to Flowerbud. But you knew all that." She smirked, still slightly awed that the man who'd helped her all that time ago had been the one right in front of her. Vaughn rolled his eyes, but she could see a ghost of a smirk on his mouth.

"But you're not in Flowerbud," Vaughn said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Change of heart?"

Chelsea frowned at him slightly—did he really not know about the shipwreck? "You mean you didn't hear?"

"I reckon I didn't." Vaughn replied, leaning back against the nearby table. Chelsea sighed.

"The ship that got caught in a storm back in summer? Felicia told me that they printed a story about it in the city's newspaper after it happened…"

Chelsea watched as Vaughn's eye flashed with recognition then widened to a surprising size. He stood up straight, taken aback. "You mean t'say that _you_ and _Taro's family_ were the ones thrown off that boat?"

Chelsea nodded, smirking a little at his reaction. He really only _pretended_ to be calm, cool, and collected, she realized. "Yeah, it was us. We washed up here and found the abandoned town and farm. I figured that a free farm was better than a cheap one—and this one is so _big_, too—so I stayed here."

Vaughn was silent. After a moment, Chelsea started growing apprehensive—was he _angry_ or something? She glanced over at his face to read his expression, but, naturally, is hat was in the way. Just then, he looked up at her, shaking his head and sighing—but she could see the smirk on his lips.

"You really can't do a thing without almost dyin', y'know?"

Chelsea scoffed, "Well, I've managed to stay alive this long, haven't I?"

"'Cause y'lived in a town with a population of two dozen."

"Whatever," Chelsea rolled her eyes, but still couldn't help but smile slightly. "The point of the story is that I can't go back there or let them know where I am because… well, I don't know if they'd make me come home."

"But you're a grown woman," Vaughn said, his hat pulled back down over his face as he leaned back again, "Can't y'make your own decisions?"

"I guess," Chelsea sighed. She looked out her window at the desolate, snowy field and added to herself, "I'm just not sure what my decision would be…"

Vaughn didn't seem to hear her and stood up straight again, taking a step towards the door. "Well, I ought t'get back—"

"Wait," Chelsea said, turning towards him. She had been talking about herself this whole time, she'd almost forgotten to ask about him. "You're still going to be on the island tomorrow, right?"

"Is it Thursday?" He asked curtly, probably seeing where she was going with this.

"I'll take that as a yes," Chelsea smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Are you eating with anyone?"

Vaughn hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Naw…"

"Do you want to come over here, then?" She blurted out, her cheeks pink. After a second's pause, she hurriedly continued, "Since neither of us have any plans, I mean. That way neither of us has to be alone on Starry Night, but I understand if—"

"Sure," Vaughn said, and she fell silent.

"Oh. Really?" Chelsea asked, blinking. "I mean, thanks. I'll, uh, see if I can whip anything together for dinner…"

Vaughn shook his head, "Don't bother—s'fine. See y'tomorrow."

"Bye," Chelsea called as he pulled the door open and walked outside. As the door clicked closed, she flopped back on her bed.

Her head was pounding, her heart was beating hard, and her face felt hot, but she couldn't help but smile.

* * *

**B'aww :3**

**Anywho, I know I said double-update back in February. Well, little did I know, that weekend would be the Weekend from Hell. I literally had to plan the entire weekend out hour-by-hour to finish all my schoolwork - and I still didn't finish it all. But that doesn't explain my lack of update this last weekend. Let's just say that this chapter is that update... please?**

**I'll update this weekend again, and I'll see what else I can do until then. I really should never promise more than I'm doing currently because... well, in all honesty, I'm just way, way too busy. But this story takes great priority and I work on it as soon as I can, whenever I can.**

**Sorry for failing with the double-update D:**

**Thanks for reading :3**


	30. Enchanted

**Wow. I'm suddenly really bad at keeping a schedule.**

**I hope this'll be worth the wait, though...**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1462  
_

_Date Updated: 3-23-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 251_

* * *

"Hey, Daisy. What's up?"

The nearly-grown cow turned her gaze towards the petite farmer in the doorway of the barn, letting out a long and low moo. Chelsea smiled and stepped across the dirty hay that lined the floorboards, making her way to the fodder dispenser. As she pulled out an armful of straw, Chelsea let out a little giggle.

"You know, Daze, it's Starry Night tonight and it's already getting dark," she set the hay in the trough facing the cow and plopped down on her bottom. "I thought I was going to have to spend it alone with you this year."

Daisy bowed her head slightly and let out a disgruntled snort. Chelsea shook her head and waved her hands frantically, realizing what she'd said.

"No, no—I didn't mean it like that! I wouldn't have minded spending it with you—it's just, you know, you're… a cow. A very wonderful cow, but a cow nonetheless," she sighed, patting Daisy's course, brown head. "I'll get you a friend soon, and then you can have someone around when I'm working. Until then, though, us lonely girls have to stick together, yeah?"

Chelsea smiled as Daisy raised her head in affirmation. Before Chelsea could even think of what to say next, a deep voice she had come to know well sounded from the far side of the barn.

**Ooo**

Vaughn had come to the barn after he'd been unable to find Chelsea at her farmhouse. When he'd opened the barn door, he was not entirely expecting to see the farmer on her knees, franticly apologizing to her livestock. It was just so weird the way she treated that cow like it was human—sure, it was weird, but Vaughn found it refreshing. Treating her cow like a person and friend was far better than treating it like it was a walking piece of meat. Vaughn felt his respect for her grow just a little more as Chelsea smiled at the cow, promising it that she'd buy another soon.

"Hey, you ready?" Vaughn said, deciding it was time to end his little eavesdropping session. Chelsea's shoulders tensed in surprise and she shot up and spun around to face him, her face a delicate pink. He almost smirked at her expression.

"H-How long have you been there?" She asked, walking over to join him at the doorway. He shrugged one shoulder.

"Not long," he said, and, nodding towards the door, continued, "S'gettin dark out."

Vaughn didn't really know how this whole deal was supposed to go down. He'd heard that the festival was observed in a few different ways, the most common being eating with family and friends or going out and watching the stars. Since he and Chelsea didn't exactly have a feast to eat, he assumed they'd be doing some stargazing and hadn't thought much of it.

Until he and the small farmer were actually walking out on to her field, that is.

He had really underestimated the _closeness_ of the festival. It was just him and her, walking alone through the pitch black night, making their way to the center of her field. He felt a real tension all throughout his body. It pulled his muscles taught, bunched his shoulders, made his heart beat just a little faster than it usually did… and he felt like he was sweating. In fact, he _was_ sweating, honest-to-goddess—and in freezing temperatures, too!

He was starting to rethink this whole event.

He was usually pretty thick to this kind of thing, but after a little thinking he also realized what the implications of this festival were. Hadn't Riley said something about him spending Starry Night with that girl from Flowerbud? Depending on who you're with, this festival could be… suggestive. Not that he particularly cared—the islanders here knew his reputation. They knew his ways well enough to know that his and Chelsea's spending the festival together wasn't normal. It didn't mean anything.

Chelsea suddenly stopped walking and glanced around. He followed suit. They were in a small patch of cleared field, probably somewhere near the river—he could hear its flowing in the background noise of the night. With an almost inaudible sigh, Chelsea sat down and pulled her knees into her chest. Vaughn sat down near her, but not too near her… he was afraid that she'd be able to hear his sudden arrhythmia if he got too close.

A few moments passed and the silence continued. It wasn't too heavy, but it wasn't comfortable, either. Even Vaughn could tell that some sort of conversation had to be started soon. He wasn't going to be the one to start it.

As if on cue, Chelsea glanced over at him. "The stars are really pretty tonight."

Vaughn glanced up, peeking at the diamond sky from under his hat. He nodded, opting not to say anything.

"I'm surprised it's this clear—it had been snowing all week, but there's not even a cloud in the sky tonight," she said, and he saw a soft smile pull up her lips, "And it's not even that cold out."

At that statement, he suddenly became aware that she was still wearing his coat. Surely she'd been wearing it before, but he'd never noticed it. Granted, he wasn't really looking, but it still seemed kind of… normal on her. Aside from being obnoxiously oversized, that is.

"S'almost spring," Vaughn mumbled, feeling the need to contribute something. Chelsea nodded, her smile growing.

"I can't wait," she said, leaning back onto her hands, "I'm going to grow a lot more this season. And I'll build a coop and see if I can get another cow."

"You take good care of Daisy," Vaughn blurted, surprising himself at the compliment. Sure, it was true, but he wasn't entirely used to giving out his approval. Before now, it never seemed like anyone cared if they had his praise. But, of course, Chelsea would be the odd one out.

She turned towards him, her eyes dancing with her smile. They reflected the twinkling lights overhead, making them seem so much more… _enchanting_. Vaughn couldn't bring himself to look away. If his heart was beating fast before, it was in hyper drive now. The white noise around them suddenly faded as his ears started to throb and his palms felt clammy. In the back of his mind, he started panicking—what the hell was going on? He couldn't move—he felt paralyzed. His stomach was in knots. His face felt hot. Was it just him, or were Chelsea's eyes getting bigger? No, no, they were just closer. Somehow the space he'd made sure was between them had closed in and now the only thing that separated them was three or four inches of still, freezing air. He managed to tear his gaze away to glance quickly, nervously, at her lips—that was a mistake. He had no idea what came over him, but the way her pink lips were just barely parted and the light feel of her cool breath on his face made him desperate to close the distance between the two. He brought his gaze back up to her eyes—her huge, blue eyes that reminded him so much of home. The space between them become two inches. Chelsea's eyes fluttered down towards his mouth for half a second. One and a half inches. She exhaled softly and a small puff of clean breath tickled Vaughn's chin. One inch. Her eyelids dropped slightly and Vaughn's breath catches in his throat.

And then reality hits him like a punch to the gut. He jerks away from her like he would if he's just touched a hot stove. Her eyes open fully and she blinks once, twice, three times. She can feel her face heat up drastically—had they just almost…? She shook her head slightly, rubbing her hands together. They suddenly felt a little cold.

"We should probably head back inside now," she said after a long moment's silence. "It's getting kind of cold, don't you think?"

Vaughn nodded and stood, offering her a hand. She took it and pulled herself up, unable to see his expression from under his hat. He walked her back to the farmhouse and, with a silent tip of his hat, started back down the path to town. Chelsea watched him go, her face still hot. Before he disappeared completely into the darkness, she called after him.

"Thank you, Vaughn."

She saw him stop, but now he was just a dark figure at the entrance to her farm. She couldn't tell if he'd acknowledged her or not. Sighing softly to herself, she walked inside and closed the door behind her.

Outside her window, a soft snow began to fall.

* * *

**Dang, I feel kind of bad for doing that to you guys. Vaughn and Chelsea are just really having trouble being fluffy, aren't they?**

**So, I don't have much of an excuse for this last lack of update. Just that it's time to apply for AP and honors classes and I have a lot of tests to take. Sorry, I'll do better, I swear!**

**NEW POLL IN MY PROFILE. Please share your opinions on Vaughn's accent in this fic! It's important research for me xD**

**Thanks for reading. Here's to faster updates!**


	31. Talk To a Friend

**Okay, late update. And it's sort of short. My bad, but seriously, things are getting intense in the life department. This chapter was written completely in my English and Religion classes while I was supposed to be working on an essay/project. Enjoy!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1104  
_

_Date Updated: 4-14-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 275_

* * *

"So, Chelsea, how was last night?"

"Huh?" Chelsea tensed, jerking her head to face Julia. They were sitting side-by-side in Mirabelle's kitchen. "What about last night?"

"I was just wondering how Starry Night went for you," Julia said, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "Why so defensive?"

"I'm not defensive," Chelsea said, turning slightly away from the blonde, "Starry Night was fine. How was Taro's?"

"It was great!" She beamed, placing her chin in her hands. Chelsea failed to mask the hurt that she knew spread all over her face. Julia noticed and blinked. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Chelsea sighed, fidgeting with the bottom hem of Vaughn's coat, "It's just… you told me I could eat over here. And then you made plans with Taro and Elliot and them… without even letting me know you couldn't eat with me."

"Oh, shoot, Chels," Julia said, bringing a hand up to her mouth in realization, "I didn't even…"

"It's fine," Chelsea said, forcing a smile. She hoped it looked real. "I know how much you were hoping Elliot would ask you."

"Yeah, but still," Julia sighed, "I can't believe I did that to you. Alone on Starry Night—I'm the worst friend ever, Chelsea…"

"No, no," Chelsea said, shaking her head. "I was fine. I ended up eating with—"

"Huh?" Julia interrupted, confused. "You ate with someone else? Who?"

Chelsea swallowed, feeling nervous. Julia wouldn't believe her if she said that her and Vaughn's celebration was just as friends, nothing more. "Uh, I—"

"Was it Vaughn?" Julia gushed, her face stretched in a wide smile. Chelsea couldn't say anything to confirm or deny it before Julia continued. "Oh my goddess, it was, huh? Oh, I knew you two liked each other! See, Chelsea? It worked out fine—I ate with Elliot and you ate with Vaughn!"

"Hold on, Julia," Chelsea cut in, her face flushing at Julia's conclusions. "We didn't eat anything—and it was just as friends—besides, it's not like he'd even consider…"

"Consider you _romantically_?" Julia smirked, teasing Chelsea like they were in grade school again. Chelsea frowned at the blonde.

"Exactly."

"Well, I think he does," Julia leaned back, her arms crossing underneath her large chest, "he just doesn't know it."

"You're insane." Chelsea rolled her eyes, but deep down, she could fee her stomach flutter anxiously. That last night… It was so weird. That almost-kiss—if that's even what it was; she couldn't remember it very well—was one of the things she never expected to happen. But it did, and she was almost disappointed that Vaughn had stopped it right then, at the last second. Her disappointment, however, was easily overshadowed by her relief at his actions—imagine if they'd actually _kissed_. They hardly knew each other, and he was just starting to open up to her. If something like that had happened, she knew that he would close her off, probably out of embarrassment. Even if the idea of a kiss from Vaughn was surprisingly exciting for her, she didn't want to risk losing his friendship for it.

"Yoo-hoo, earth to Chelsea," Julia's hand waved in front of Chelsea's face, "you there?"

"Huh?" Chelsea blinked, losing her train of thought. Julia raised her eyebrows.

"I was just asking if anything interesting happened last night."

"Oh," Chelsea paused. Time to lie. "Well, not really."

"Yeah, right," Julia rolled her eyes, "You and Vaughn were alone on your farm in the dark for at least an hour. Something interesting must have happened. Did he say anything?"

"Not really," Chelsea shrugged, putting on her poker face. "We just kind of watched the stars from my field and then he left."

"That's so _boring_," Julia slumped, frowning in disappointment. "I was hoping your night would've been better than mine."

"Oh? What happened at Taro's?" Chelsea asked, knowingly taking Julia's bait. She was just eager to change the topic off of her and Vaughn.

"_Nothing_." Julia sighed in exasperation, slumping even more. Chelsea smiled sympathetically.

"Well, next year will be even better."

Secretly, she hoped the same would be true for her.

**Ooo**

"Yo, Vaughn, why so quiet?"

The cowboy switched his gaze from the greasy tabletop of the fast food joint to his friend's face. Riley was shoving several French fries into his mouth, watching Vaughn with a skeptical brow raised. Vaughn returned this look with a rising of his own eyebrow.

"Seriously?"

Riley laughed, swallowing. "I mean, you're more quiet than usual. If that's even possible. And you aren't glaring at anything. Are you… in a _good mood_, or something?"

"Good mood?" Vaughn repeated, turning the idea over in his head. He never really remembered being in a definite _good_ mood. Sure, he'd been in _okay_ moods, and sometimes he was almost a little content, but a _good_ mood? That was totally uncharacteristic of him and he knew it. But still, he had to acknowledge that the world seemed oddly better today. It was almost nice to be in the sun, and he kind of felt like it would take way too much effort to scowl.

"Yeah," Riley nodded, picking up another fry. "What happened on the island this week? Seriously, did she kiss you or something?"

At the mention of that word, Vaughn's face was immediately tinted tomato red. Riley noticed and dropped the fry.

"Oh my Goddess. Vaughn," he gaped, leaning across the table slightly. His voice lowered. "Did you seriously kiss her?"

"No!" Vaughn growled, still embarrassed. Riley leaned back in his seat.

"But you did spend Starry Night with her, right?"

Vaughn decided it wasn't worth it to lie, since Riley would know the answer anyway from the bright red color on his face. "Yeah. But not… but only as…"

"Friends?" Riley supplied, raising both his eyebrows. Vaughn frowned lightly, thinking that it was just plain weird to think of Chelsea as a _friend_. But he supposed that that was what she was—it just seemed a little bit wrong. Like there was a different, better word to use. She wasn't exactly his friend. She was something similar, but not that.

"Yeah… As friends."

"Vaughn," Riley sighed, shaking his head. "For being smart, you really are stupid."

Vaughn rolled his eyes, deciding to let that comment slide. His brain was too busy remembering Starry Night to waste the extra energy forming a response, anyway.

"Y'know," Vaughn said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table, "that island isn't really that bad."

"Really?" Riley asked, genuinely surprised. Vaughn wasn't usually like this. "Seriously, dude. What happened?"

"I almost kissed her, Riley. And she didn't try to stop me."

* * *

**Wooo. Follow-up to last chapter, and next chapter should pick up where this on leaves off. Spring is almost upon our lovely farmer and grouchy, sexy cowboy! And we all know what happens in spring.**

**So, quick little message from me regarding the immediate future's updates: I'm having gum surgery on Monday, so I'll be kind of out of commission in general for at least half of next week. Plus, it's softball season, and that means lots of games and practices. And I work as a tutor, so lots of kids are suddenly trying to study for finals. Considering I'm up to my neck in end-of-the-year projects, this doesn't bode well for my writing schedule. And Script Frenzy is failing - I am trying to adapt this fic to a screenplay xD**

**This all seems bad, but there's always a silver lining. I have spring break starting a week from today! That's a whole ten days to myself, and I will definitely assign at least one whole day to writing this fic. That could mean one chapter, it could mean three, or it could mean ten - I don't know. But I probably won't update this weekend because of the craziness I just explained in the previous paragraph. I'll make it all up to y'all come April 22 - May 1.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D**


	32. Conflict

**Blegh.**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1232  
_

_Date Updated: 4-26-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 287_

* * *

Vaughn never thought that Riley could remain that quiet for so long. It was starting to wear down on his nerves. Had he said too much? That didn't seem possible when it came to Riley… It seemed to Vaughn that his friend could never have enough information. He was always, _always_ bugging Vaughn for more details.

And yet, there they sat in total silence.

"…Riley?" Vaughn finally asked, willing his face to cool off from his embarrassment. Riley blinked.

"Dude," he sighed, slowly shaking his head, "_Almost_?"

Vaughn rolled his eyes. "I wasn't about to—to—"

"Just _kiss_ her, damn it! It isn't that freaking _difficult_!" Riley frowned, trying to come off as joking. Vaughn could sense the small amount of seriousness in his tone.

"But—I—Riley, she—"

"Listen to yourself, man!" Riley sighed again, watching his poor, antisocial friend with pity in his eyes. "She has you incoherent."

Vaughn took a breath, willing his temper to calm down. A moment passed and silence was restored. He took another breath, carefully drawling out his next statement. "I… can't."

"The hell you can't," Riley rolled his eyes. "Grow some balls, man."

"I don't know why you're acting like I know her and she knows me," Vaughn hissed, his temper flaring again. Riley didn't understand. Hell, even he didn't understand himself. "We've barely known 'chother for, what? Two seasons?"

"That's half a year, man. It's long enough for me to notice her changing you."

"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' 'bout." Vaughn growled, pulling down his hat. His good mood was officially gone.

"You're nicer, Vaughn. Everyone's noticed. I can tell how you change after you get back from another week's work on that island."

"You're makin' stuff up." Vaughn muttered.

"Am I?" Riley narrowed his eyes slightly.

Vaughn scowled, but his gut was telling him that Riley was right. He did feel better after being on that island. Granted, it was a weird kind of better. His stomach felt odd and, at first, he swore he was going insane because of the place. But now, that insanity was normal, and he'd gotten used to it. He didn't exactly like it, but he definitely didn't hate it. He felt… restless. Like he was in the middle of something, and he'd have to find a good stopping point to feel at ease.

Vaughn shook his head slightly. He was really starting to over-think things.

**Ooo**

"Hey, Chelsea. Keeping warm?"

Chelsea quickly shut the door to the animal shop before the winter breeze could follow her in. rubbing her hands together, she sat down next to Julia.

"As warm as I can be. I can't wait for spring—it's only two days now!" She smiled, picturing the warm sun shining down on her field full of blooming crops. "Daisy will love to be able to graze outside again."

"It's hard to believe it's already the twenty-ninth," Julia sighed, resting her chin in her palm, her elbow propped up on the counter. "Tomorrow's supposed to be the New Year's Festival. It's been so long since I've eaten noodles on New Year's—I hope it's as fun as I remember it being."

"Don't worry. It'll be fun," Chelsea smiled. "Back at home, we always ate noodles on New Year's."

"You haven't told me much about your old village," Julia said, tilting her head. "Any reason for this?"

"Not really," Chelsea shrugged, "There's just not much to tell, I guess."

What a blatant lie, Chelsea thought. But for some reason, she just didn't really feel like telling Julia all about her family and the farm she grew up on. Julia had been growing a little bit distant from Chelsea in the last week or so. She figured the blonde had just been busy pursuing Elliot, but even after the Starry Night mishap, Julia hadn't been as talkative or interested as she used to be. It was bothering Chelsea, but not enough for her to say anything.

"I see," Julia nodded. The conversation stopped.

"Hey," Chelsea said after several empty moments, "can I borrow a piece of paper and a pen again? I think I should write my parents something over the holidays."

"Yeah, sure," Julia said, setting her chin on the counter. "You know where it is."

Chelsea pushed herself up and went over to the cupboard, where the paper and pens were stored for the shop. She took a couple sheets and one of the pens, but instead of sitting back down next to Julia, who was seeming a bit preoccupied by Goddess knows what, she headed towards the door.

"I'll catch you later, okay? I forgot to brush Daisy." Chelsea smiled, turning the knob. "Thanks for the paper."

"No problem," Julia waved, "See you."

As Chelsea shut the door behind her, she let out a soft sigh that puffed like a small cloud in front of her face. She really hoped things would get back to normal with Julia soon.

**Ooo**

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I know it's been ages since I wrote you guys. I'm sorry—things have just been… really hectic._

_I'll start out by saying that winter is way too cold. My little house seems to be like a giant freezer, and guess what? I forgot to bring any sort of coat. Or pants. But it's okay, since the season is almost over. Vaughn gave me his old jacket, too, so I've been okay. I thought that fall was bad when I could barely grow any crops, but man, I had no idea how hard it could get during the winter when growing anything is impossible. And Daisy still isn't producing milk, so I've literally had no income. _

_Wait, have I told you about Daisy? Daisy is my wonderful, beautiful little calf I bought in the middle of fall. She's getting so big now! I love her so much. To be honest, she's really the only thing here that feels like family. She listens to me the way that only a cow could—you can understand that, right, Ma?_

_What else… Oh, speaking of family, I missed you guys so much this Starry Night. I thought it was going to be just me and Daisy, but then Julia invited me to eat with her and her mom. That… didn't work out so well, though. She forgot and they ended up eating with Taro's family. But Vaughn was on the island then, and he didn't have anyone to eat with, so we decided to hang out for a little bit. It sounds so weird when I try to write it down, but it wasn't really._

_Vaughn is different than I thought. I think I told you how we'd be friends some day, right? Well, I think we're friends now. He talks to me more and he's not that mean if he gets to know you. He also has an interesting past... I found out that he's from Forget-Me-Not Valley. Isn't that funny? He's not that much older than me, too. Only six years. It's like we just missed each other._

_Well, my hand hurts and it's getting kind of cold out. I think today will be the last snow of the season, which is awesome news for my frozen toes! I'll remember to write you guys more often from now on. Happy New Year! I love you guys,_

_XOXOXO_

_Chelsea_

* * *

**I hate this chapter. Sorry it sucks so much, guys. I wrote it in an hour and fifteen minutes, not stopping for any breaks. It's pathetically short and really, really not what I wanted. But, as a rule, I don't rewrite chapters from scratch. If this isn't what I planned, then the story wants to go a different direction. I just don't really like this particular direction. I have no idea where this new conflict with Julia or the conflict with Riley came from. I must be in a subconsciously combative mood. Sorry.**

**More chapters to come this break. I think I need sleep or something, because I'm abnormally pissed off. Ah, crap, it's like 12:34 at night and I have my first ever driving lesson at 9:00am tomorrow morning. I don't know why I'm keeping that in the A/N.**

**By the way, you guys are the best people ever for putting up with my obnoxious hiatuses and moody A/Ns. I love you all. :'D**


	33. That Day of the Week

**THREE HUNDRED REVIEWS OMG**

**It's kind of sad, though. My mom got the three-hundredth review, and it's so pathetic. Go read it. xDDD**

**You guys make me so, so, so happy. I'm making sure all my chapters are longer and less spaced-out in update time to thank you! :D**

**My birthday is on May 6th, so this week is my gift to all you. I'll be sixteen, and you'll be spending more time reading fanfiction~**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1756  
_

_Date Updated: 4-30-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 300  
_

* * *

A cold wind blew through the trees, knocking some snow off their branches. Claire padded her way through the foot-deep snow on the ground of her farm, trying to shield her face from the stinging barrages of the winter air. She had made sure the barn was shut tightly, remembering their last winter on the Mineral Town farm when one of the lambs got out and nearly died of pneumonia, the poor thing.

She looked up ahead of her and noticed the flag up on the mailbox. Her mind processed this sight before she sprinted to the red box, nearly tripping a few times. She ripped open the door and pulled out one clean envelope. Her eyes welled up slightly as she saw that there was no return address. Quickly, she put it under her scarf and hurried inside.

"Gray!" She called, pushing her stringy blonde hair out of her face, "Gray, there's a letter!"

"What?" Gray asked, walking out of the kitchen. He eyed his wife strangely as she ran up to him in a frenzy. "What are you talking about?"

"I just got a letter out of the mailbox," Claire said, catching her breath, "and there's no return address."

"So—" He stopped, and, realizing what Claire was getting at, set his hands on her shoulders. "Claire, open it."

"I am, I am!" She said, struggling to tear at the envelope with her numbed fingers. Gray waited beside her, impatiently. She frowned up at him. "Hey, I'm working on it!"

"Let me—" He started, reaching for the letter. Claire jerked it away from him.

"I can do it fine," she scowled, finally opening the envelope. She pulled out its contents triumphantly and began to read it. Gray read over her shoulder. An eerie silence filled the room.

"Gray," Claire said quietly, turning away from the letter. He frowned at her worried expression.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I'm worried, too."

"But we can't just leave her there to freeze, can we?" Claire asked, trying to blink back tears. She could see her baby huddled up in a corner, all alone, shivering in sub-zero temperatures. "It even sounds like that best friend of hers isn't being very nice to her!"

"There's nothing we can do, Claire," Gray sighed, rubbing his forehead. "She didn't give us a return address. And besides, she would hate us if we came to get her."

"Maybe she would, but at least she'd be alive!" Claire croaked, unable to hold back the tears any longer. Gray put his arm around her, scanning over the letter again.

"It is almost spring," he said, trying to cheer her up. "Chelsea sure seems optimistic about it. She'll be fine—she has other friends, too, right?"

"Yeah," Claire sniffed, wiping at her eyes. She took a deep breath, calming herself down and regaining control. "And she sure seems to like that Vaughn guy, hm?"

"What do you mean?" Gray asked, his arm dropping.

"She wrote almost half her letter about him," Claire giggled, pointing at the paper. "Did you even read it all?"

"I did," Gray said, his eyebrows knotting together. "But she didn't…"

"It's so obvious, Gray," Claire smiled, shaking her head at her husband. "She's totally smitten with him."

"No," Gray said, looking from Claire to the letter and back again. "How do you get that out of what she wrote?"

"She's always been like this." Claire smiled softly, "But the poor thing probably doesn't even realize how she feels yet."

"But—If—What do we do?" Gray sputtered, frowning. Claire raised an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing," she said, leaning back against the dining table. "I thought you wanted to leave her be for a while."

"You're telling me that this Vaughn guy doesn't bother you?" Gray asked, his eyebrows shooting up. Claire shook her head.

"Not really. Does he bother you?"

"We don't know a thing about him!" Gray exclaimed, disbelieving his wife's sudden stupidity. "What if he's—he's—"

"A good guy, like Chelsea thinks he is?" Claire supplied, smirking. Gray rolled his eyes, frustrated. Claire's smirk faded into a more sympathetic smile as she stepped closer to him. "Chelsea's always been a good judge of character. Sure, she's a bit too optimistic, but she's smart. We can trust her."

Gray was silent for several moments before he let out a sigh. "Fine."

"Alright," Claire smiled, kissing his cheek. He blushed lightly, making her giggle. He pulled down slightly on his cap.

"What do we do now?" He asked, looking back down at the letter in his daughter's handwriting. Claire leaned her head on his shoulder, looking at the paper, too.

"I guess we just wait."

**Ooo**

"Happy New Year's Eve, Chelsea!"

Chelsea whipped her head in the direction of the voice. Denny waved at her from behind, his feet sinking in the cool sand as he walked towards her. She smiled and waved back, deciding not to get up from her spot sitting on the beach. Denny sat down next to her.

"You ready for the festival tonight?" He asked. Chelsea smiled and nodded, thinking of all the hot, free noodles she'd get to eat.

"I can't wait!" She sighed, enjoying the chilled sensation of her feet buried in the cold sand. Denny laughed.

"It's going to be great," He nodded, then tilted his head at her. "But what're you doing out here? You don't have a fishing pole, and…"

"Oh, I'm just sitting," Chelsea blushed lightly. She didn't really know why she was there, to be perfectly honest. She didn't have anything else to do, and she would normally be at Mirabelle's shop, but something made her want to come to the beach instead. She had been there for hours, just watching the horizon. It was incredibly calming.

"Just sitting, eh?" Denny asked, a new twinkle in his eye. "You aren't waiting for anyone?"

"Waiting?" Chelsea repeated, confused. "Waiting for who?"

"Oh, no one," Denny said, smirking and looking up at the sky. "Well, I promised Lanna I'd meet her at the Diner before the festival. I'll see you there!"

"See you," Chelsea called after him as he walked away his fishing pole swinging behind him from his shoulder.

Chelsea turned back to face the ocean, pulling her knees in to her chest. Hugging them closer, she rested her chin on them and sighed as the tide pulled in and out, the shimmering sound of the waves lulling her into a sleeplike state. The sun wasn't halfway through the sky, but the clouds made it seem darker than it would be on a normal morning. Her eyelids pulled down, but she fought the urge to close them. She didn't want to sleep through the festival and miss the noodles.

After one long, slow blink, she thought she could see a dark shape on the ocean. She opened her eyes a little wider. What was that? A ship? She yawned, the sound of waves crashing nearby flooding her ears. What day was it? It was the thirtieth… A week after the twenty-fourth, which was a Wednesday…

Her eyelids tugged down, and her head felt heavy. She yawned again, realizing it shouldn't be this difficult to figure out the day of the week. And then she felt like she was flying and eating noodles, which was a clue that she had fallen asleep.

**Ooo**

Vaughn stepped off the boat, taking a deep breath of the salty island air. He wasn't exactly dreading coming to the island this week—which was actually a first for him—but he wasn't really looking forward to it, either. It was surprising, then, when he felt almost happy to be on the dock of Sunny Island. He wasn't really expecting that.

He started down the dock, watching his feet on the worn wood and holding his small bag in his hand. He'd arrived a bit late due to a little mix-up in Flowerbud Village. The boat captain there had wanted the day off due to it being a festival. Vaughn couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes as he remembered the fiasco. Vaughn didn't take vacations, and there was no way in hell that he was going to be spending New Year's and New Year's Eve in Flowerbud Village, where everyone treated him like he was a plague-infested alien.

And that was what he'd told the captain, who then promptly stopped complaining and boarded the ship.

So now Vaughn was spending the two holidays on Sunny Island, which was something he wasn't expecting would make him feel this relieved.

The dock ran out and Vaughn's boots hit the sand of the beach. He saw something out of the corner of his eye and looked up, did a double-take, and rolled his eyes before walking across the sand a few yards.

He stopped and looked down at the dozing farmer at his feet. She seemed to have fallen asleep sitting up. Her head was bowed and her breathing was deep and even. Vaughn wondered if he should wake her up, and, if he was going to, _how_.

But just as he thought that, she surprised him by snapping her head up and rubbing her eyes, letting out a huge, tired yawn. Vaughn tried not to think about how adorable she looked when she did that. She brought her gaze over to his boots, then slowly up to his face. They stared at each other for a few long, silent moments. He could feel a small shiver crawl from his neck down his back. What was he supposed to say?

Just then, her face broke into a grin, allowing him to let out the breath he'd been holding. He didn't even know he was holding his breath until then.

"Hey, Vaughn," Chelsea said, pulling herself up. "Today's Wednesday, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, adjusting his hat. "Any particular reason y'were sleepin' here?"

Chelsea's forehead scrunched up lightly as she thought. "Nope, not really."

"Alright then," Vaughn nodded once and started walking towards town. Chelsea caught up and they walked up the path together. As he listened to Chelsea talk about the island's happening that last week, he realized that he really didn't mind having her as a friend.

"What did you do this week?" Chelsea asked, her blue eyes focused on him, waiting for his answer—waiting like she cared.

"Not much," Vaughn said, his lips pulling up slightly at the corners. He actually kind of liked talking to Chelsea. Maybe having friends wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**It's so long! I went to Barnes&Noble and wrote for almost three hours and this lovely chapter (which I like way better than the last one) and others. BD**

**Enjoy! I hope you liked it, and I'd love to hear from you. Unfortunately, tomorrow is my dedicated homework day, so no writing then. But I still have Sunday! ...Then school. Then my birthday!**

**Oh, and I'm going to buy a used cop car.**


	34. Emotional Rollercoaster

**Here's another chapter! I hope it's long enough. Then continuation of it will come this weekend, even though it's already written xP**

**Early birthday present for you all! Bahaha. I don't even know where this little mini-arc came from, just so you know. xD**

**NOTE: An anonymous reviewer mentioned the inclusion of some sort of lemon in this fic, warning me against it. Just so anyone who reads this knows, I don't write that kind of stuff. It won't get that intense here. The rating is T and it won't go any higher, considering I'm a "T", ahaha. (Besides, it's not like I'd be able to write a lemon if I even tried - /shot)**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1441  
_

_Date Updated: 5-4-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 311_

* * *

"Vaughn, are you going to the festival tonight?"

The cowboy looked up from his work and over to the farmer. She was laying upside-down on a pile of full chicken-feed bags stacked up against the wall of Mirabelle's coop. Vaughn shrugged, continuing to scatter feed. "I hadn't thought 'bout it. Probably not."

Chelsea turned herself right-side up. "Why not?"

Vaughn shrugged again. "I don't really like festivals."

Chelsea frowned, but fell silent. Vaughn focused on his work again, trying not to feel awkward. Chelsea had offered to help him with his work, but he'd turned her down, saying it was called _his _work for a reason. So she'd decided to just tag along and watch, causing Vaughn to feel mixed emotions.

"I think you should come," Chelsea said, breaking the silence. "It'll be fun."

"I don't know," Vaughn said, frowning. Festivals were very… _social_. Chelsea crossed her arms.

"C'mon," she said, trying to be diplomatic. "When was the last time you actually went to a festival?"

"Last week," he said, thinking it would nullify her point. It wasn't until he saw her face flare up to a loud scarlet that he realized what exactly he's just brought up. The air was suddenly very, very still. He was afraid to breath—was inhaling pure tension lethal?

"Oh, you're right," Chelsea said, trying to break the awkward silence. Somehow she only made it more awkward. Vaughn cringed. He was out of chicken feed and had to go get more. Awkwardly—so, _so_ awkwardly—he walked over to the open feed bag that was conveniently sitting right beside Chelsea. With his hand scooping feed out into the smaller bag he held, he was standing so close to her that he would touch her with even the slightest movement. He could feel her eyes on him—they were burning a hole in the side of his head. Before he could even think about what he was doing, he turned his head slightly towards her and their gazes locked. He froze, feeling his face burn up. He noticed her pink cheeks turn into a much darker red.

"Chelsea, you here? I—"

Chelsea's head snapped towards the entrance to the coop, freeing Vaughn from that sudden bout of paralysis. Julia stood in the doorway, her eyebrows raised and a smirk on her lips.

"Oh," she said, pressing her lips together to hold in her laughter, "Nevermind. See you, Chels."

Chelsea swallowed as Julia left. She glanced back towards Vaughn, who was really focused on the bag of chicken feed in front of him. "Uh, I should go see what she wanted."

"See you," Vaughn nodded at her, then quickly returned his gaze to the feed bags. Chelsea hesitated for a second, thinking that she really shouldn't leave in such an awkward way, but realized that anything she could say would just make it more uncomfortable. She stood up and took her leave.

As the door closed behind her, Vaughn's shoulders slumped and he leaned forward against the bags. He'd never felt so awkward in his life.

**Ooo**

"What was that about, Chelsea?" Julia asked from the sanctuary of Mirabelle's kitchen. Chelsea sighed.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. Julia raised her eyebrows.

"It didn't seem like nothing. The air was so tense in there! I swear, it was like walking into a brick wall when I opened the door."

"Well, it was nothing," Chelsea said, her arms crossed across her chest. She was staring at her muddy boots on the floor.

"If you say so," Julia said. "I was wondering if you were going to the festival tonight."

"Of course," Chelsea said, not moving her gaze. "Are you?"

"Yeah." Julia said, leaning against the wall. "I wanted to know if you want to meet up beforehand and head over together."

"You aren't going to meet with Elliot?" Chelsea asked, not meaning to sound so bitter. Julia's eyebrows furrowed together.

"Elliot?" She repeated. "What about Elliot?"

"Nothing," Chelsea sighed. "Forget I said anything."

"No," Julia said, frowning and pushing off the wall. "Chels, are you still mad about Starry Night?"

"No, I'm not," Chelsea frowned, looking at a different spot on the floor. "Forget about it."

"I said I was sorry!" Julia said, half-scowling. Chelsea grimaced.

"Yeah, but—"

"But what? I apologized! It's in the past, and you said you were fine! What was I supposed to do?"

"Keep your promises!" Chelsea blurted out, her face burning. "It wasn't just an inconvenience, Julia! It was humiliating! I don't think I've ever felt so betrayed in my life—you just, just, just forgot about me! And you knew how much I'd been missing my family! How could you do that to me?"

"I don't—"

"No, just… forget about it," Chelsea sighed, trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill. She failed. She stood up and started towards the door as she wiped at her eyes. "Forget about it."

"Chelsea!" Julia called, but Chelsea was already out the door and running up the path.

**Ooo**

Chelsea couldn't believe she'd said those things to Julia. She knew that Julia was sorry, and Chelsea forgave her, but it didn't change what happened. Chelsea slowed her run down to a walk, sniffling pathetically. The waterworks were turned on and she wasn't about to waste the opportunity to just cry it all out. She had slowed to a stop in the middle of town, and, realizing where she was, tried to get a hold of herself until she was somewhere more private. The thought of going back to her empty house only made a new round of tears come up. Without really thinking about it, she started towards the forest.

As she crossed the bridge, she noticed that the snow was almost completely melted off of it. She had her gaze fixed at her shoes, watching the wooden slats move beneath her. She smiled vaguely at the faint, brown stains of two sets of footprints crossing the bridge. It seemed like so long ago that she had been in the forest and Vaughn had called those wild dogs off her—she cringed a bit at the memory. How embarrassing.

As soon as she was under the cover of the trees, she turned off the dirt path and sat on some damp grass at the base of a tall pine. She hugged her knees close and blinked a few times, her face hot and sticky from tears. She wasn't really that upset at Julia—at least, not upset enough to sob like this. She took a breath but it caught in her chest, making her hiccup. More tears came.

The thing that bothered her about the Starry Night fiasco with Julia was that it was proof of how much Julia valued Chelsea's friendship. Even if she _had_ forgotten—which, quite frankly, Chelsea was starting to doubt—Julia still would rather eat with Elliot than with Chelsea. Julia hardly ever spoke to Elliot—she was just infatuated with him, nothing else. Chelsea was sure that Julia was just looking for attention—she didn't actually love Elliot. It was a crush. Julia had blown Chelsea off for a crush, and that's what hurt her so badly.

But now all Chelsea wanted was to talk to her mom. Her mom always knew what to say at times like these. Chelsea missed her. She missed her cooking, her conversation, and her hugs. Chelsea whimpered slightly, realizing that she couldn't really remember what it felt like to hug her mom. She was only nineteen—she wasn't ready to live by herself like this!

It was hard for Chelsea to take a deep breath—every time she tried, it would turn into a hiccup. It was hard for her to see properly, too; everything was a washed-out blur from the tears. At first, she'd tried to be quiet, but now Chelsea figured that there was no one around. She just cried. She cried at the top of her lungs. It felt so good to let it all out. The frigidly long winter, the poverty, the loneliness—it was all building up and up and up on her, weighing her down. She was finally starting to crack.

She missed her parents. All she wanted was to stand up and walk into her living room, eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches with her parents, and sleep in her own bed in her own bedroom at _home_.

"Chel…sea?"

Chelsea's sob caught in her throat. She wished that the ground would open up beneath her at that moment.

It had to be _him_ to find her, Goddess help her.

* * *

**Herp-a-derp. What's this? Chelsea being emotional? Gasp! How interesting and not cliche in the slightest!**

**Well, I suppose y'all will find out what Vaughn does next this weekend! Stay tuned, and tell me what you thought in a review. Just to let you know, the next chapter is long - a little longer than the last one. I like it. Please look forward to it! After that, I'll write my first update as a sixteen-year-old. Maybe my writing will change magically o:**

**...Right. Take care! Tell me what you think Vaughn will say to Chelsea next chapter! :D**


	35. Spontaneous Resolutions

**Here's that update I promised you! I think it's irrational how much I love this one. It's freakishly long (well, I like to think so) and very random, but I love it. Is it fluffy? ...Maybe...**

**Happy Mother's Day, everyone! I'm lucky enough to not only have an excellent mom, but an excellent mom whose birthday is also today! **

**Also, I'd like to apologize for not replying to all the reviews last chapter. When I try to hit the "reply to review" link in my emails, it brings me to a 404 Not Found page. I hope it gets fixed soon! Dx**

**And for people asking, my birthday was on the 6th and it was awesome. Yay! xD**

**Anyways, go ahead and read :D**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1772  
_

_Date Updated: 5-8-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 326_

* * *

Chelsea sat back, leaning against the tree trunk and wiping furiously at her eyes. She managed to take a few breaths, hiccupping only once. She knew just how she looked: red, puffy eyes; mangled, stringy hair; dirty, blotchy face…

"What—" Chelsea stopped, her voice cracking, "What's up, Vaughn?"

She didn't look up at him, so when there was no answer for a few moments, she thought she might have imagined him being there. But then the grass near her moved and, lo and behold, there he sat.

"Th'sky," he muttered, his hat blocking his face. She felt her mouth twitch up in a grin.

"What're you doing here?" She asked, wiping her face again. At least she wasn't crying anymore.

"I _was_ takin' a walk," he said, "but then I thought I heard somethin' in the bushes here dyin'."

Chelsea laughed once, her throat tired. "Yeah, right."

He was silent for another long moment. "What happened with Julia? She didn't say nothin'."

"You asked her?" Chelsea asked, surprised. She was sure that he didn't go out of his way to talk to people. In fact, didn't he say something once about only talking to people for work?

"Well, after you went and ran out of there like the building was on fire, I figured somethin' happened."

"What did she say?" Chelsea asked. If she told him some lie…

"She didn't," he moved his head up slightly, revealing his frown. "She shooed me out."

"Oh," Chelsea said, not knowing how exactly to respond. She didn't like fighting with people, and she certainly didn't want to make Julia seem like a bad person, so she held her tongue for fear of venting to him.

"You gonna tell me, or should I just leave?"

"No, don't—" Chelsea began to protest, but stopped herself. He could leave if he wanted. "I just don't want to make Julia out to be a bad person."

"Well then, don't paint'er like she is," Vaughn said, "Just tell th'truth 'bout what happened."

"You're right," Chelsea nodded, sighing. "I already told you about how she blew me off on Starry Night."

Vaughn nodded. Chelsea continued.

"Well, that's really it. I don't know. It's… weird."

"You were fine with it 'fore." Vaughn said. Chelsea sighed again.

"Yeah, but… Ugh, it's so hard to explain," she grimaced. "It just seems like everything is going wrong."

Vaughn didn't say anything. Chelsea decided that he didn't need to say anything.

"I'm cold, I'm broke, and I'm homesick. And now my best friend and I are fighting. I just… I don't know. I don't know! I just want to be at home. I miss my parents. I… I don't know what to do anymore."

Chelsea took a deep breath, willing herself not to start crying again. She looked up at the blocks of cloudy sky between the branches of bare tree. Here and there a bud stuck out of the bark, but it was mainly barren. Moments of silence turned into minutes. Chelsea wasn't really afraid that she'd over-shared with Vaughn, even though he wasn't talking—he seemed like he could take it and not feel overwhelmed. He was like that.

Finally, randomly, Vaughn decided to speak. "I would give you some sort of advice'r somethin', but I really don't have any."

"That's okay," Chelsea said, smiling slightly, "At least you let me vent. Thanks."

"S'my pleasure," he said, standing up. He held out a hand to her. She took it gladly and pulled herself up.

"You know," she said as they walked down the small, muddy pathway and across the bridge, "you're a lot nicer than I thought you were."

He rolled his eyes, but Chelsea could see the ghost of a smirk on his lips. She glanced behind them and saw two new sets of muddy footprints on the faded wood of the bridge.

**Ooo**

"C'mon, Vaughn," Chelsea frowned, putting her hands on her hips. "Just come!"

Vaughn looked from the farmer in front of him to the bridge to the meadow and back. He couldn't believe she'd managed to drag him this far, and now he was actually about to go to the New Year's festival. This was such a weird day.

"I don't know," he sighed. Chelsea rolled her eyes.

"What are you going to do if you don't go, huh? Walk around the empty island? Sit around Mirabelle's alone?"

He decided not to answer. She let out a small sigh.

"Please?" She asked, looking at him in defeat. This was clearly her last resort. Vaughn knew if he denied now, she wouldn't bug him about it again, but the way she was looking at him just…

"Fine," he sighed. Chelsea pumped her fist in the air.

"Yes!" She smiled, "You won't regret it! New Year's noodles are the best!"

Chelsea started across the bridge, beckoning for Vaughn to follow. He couldn't believe what he's just gotten himself into.

As they crossed over the bridge, the meadow came into sight. It was that time of night when the sun had just disappeared, but it was still kind of light out, but everything seemed to be in a perpetual shadow. It was a bit chilly, but you could tell spring was on its way.

Chelsea stopped at the end of the bridge, taking in the sight. Paper lanterns lined the meadow, setting off a soft illumination in the dusk light. A long counter-like table stretched along one side of the meadow, covered in a festive tablecloth. Chen manned it along with a large vat of what Chelsea assumed was noodle-y goodness. A few lanterns were also hung near the table, making it easy to see around there. It was around the time that everyone would be arriving, so Chelsea noticed that only a few tourists and Denny and Lanna were in the meadow.

"It's beautiful," Chelsea said, unable to stop the beam from spreading across her face. Vaughn awkwardly nodded, feeling any sort of talkative mood flee. It was almost like he could physically feel himself close off from everyone.

"When does th'festival end?" He asked Chelsea. She looked up at him, smirking.

"Next year."

Before Vaughn could even roll his eyes, someone else had come up to the conversation.

"Chelsea!" Denny called, running up to the farmer and the cowboy. Lanna followed closely, eyeing Chelsea suspiciously, but it seemed that she relaxed when she saw Vaughn standing with her. Denny slowed to a stop in front of them and nodded to Vaughn, looking a bit surprised. "Hey, man! I didn't expect to see you here."

Vaughn didn't say anything. Lanna giggled.

"Yeah, Vaughn, it's nice to see you. What did Chelsea do to get you out here?"

Chelsea frowned slightly, unsure of how to reply to such a… _weird_ remark. Denny noticed and laughed, trying to wave it off. "Anyways, it's a great night to have a festival, right?"

"I'll say," Chelsea laughed, nodding. "It's not even that cold!"

"Spring's coming early, I guess," Denny smirked.

"Oh, if only," Chelsea said, hugging her arms around her to warm up a bit. Vaughn's coat was helping a lot.

"Well, we'll see you around!" Denny said, waving as he and Lanna walked off. Chelsea waved back and turned to Vaughn, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't talk too much, now," she said, "you might hurt yourself."

"Hey," Vaughn frowned. "I said I'd come. You didn't say nothin' 'bout talkin'."

"Fine, just don't blame me when you get bored."

**Ooo**

"Ah, Vaughn, this is so fun!" Chelsea said, hiccupping. Vaughn rolled his eyes, his elbows resting on the table. It was close to midnight and at some point during the evening, someone had thought it was a good idea to give Chelsea a cup of sake. She probably didn't realize what it was, but she drank it anyways.

Now she's on her fifth and Vaughn has to deal with a drunken farmer. He knew he shouldn't have come to this Goddess-forsaken festival.

"Is it almost spring, Vaughn?" Chelsea asked, swaying slightly on her stool. They'd brought chairs and stools in from the Diner and café when people started eating and drinking. Vaughn didn't remember this festival involving alcohol. Crazy islanders…

"Yeah, Chelsea," Vaughn sighed. He was no longer amused by Chelsea's drunkenness. At first, maybe. But that was hours ago. Now it was kind of annoying.

"How much longer?" She asked, swaying dangerously close to falling off her stool. Vaughn grabbed the sleeve of her—or, his, really—coat and pulled her upright. She giggled hysterically. Vaughn checked his watch.

"'Bout ten minutes." He said. She smiled.

"That's great!"

Only because it means we can leave soon, he thought. He glanced around at the people in the meadow, most of whom were a bit tipsy. Well, at least Lanna and Chelsea were. Denny was dealing with the slightly-intoxicated pop star over on the far end of the meadow. She seemed to be a very, very flirtatious drunk. He glanced over at Chelsea, who was acting like a five-year-old. If only he was so lucky…

Then there was a throng of tourists that had come in, seeking an island refuge for the holidays. Vaughn wondered how disappointed they were. Mirabelle seemed to be hanging out with the Taro family, and Natalie was with her brother and Julia, who seemed to be trying and failing to flirt with Elliot. That was the extent of the people Vaughn recognized before Chen yelled out that the countdown was starting.

Chelsea's ears perked up. "One more minute!"

"Thank Goddess," Vaughn muttered. Chelsea tilted her head at him.

"Huh?" She asked. He shook his head.

"Ten!"

Vaughn sighed, looking out across the crowd again. Another year, gone.

"Nine!"

If only things could change.

"Eight!"

He'd never thought much of making New Year's resolutions.

"Seven!"

Maybe this year he should try it…

"Six!"

Chelsea joined in the countdown, swaying again.

"Five!"

But what would he resolve to do?

"Four!"

He thought about it.

"Three!"

Chelsea hiccupped and swayed into Vaughn, leaning heavily against his side.

"Two!"

Vaughn saw Lanna grab Denny's collar and pull him into a sloppy kiss.

"One!"

Chelsea cheered, catching his attention. Suddenly, a resolution hit him and he decided to make it before really thinking about it.

"Happy New Year!"

After the initial cheer died down, Vaughn nudged Chelsea with his shoulder. "Hey, it's spring. Y'ain't gonna say anythin'?"

She didn't reply, so he crooked his neck down to look at her. She was passed out asleep, using his shoulder as a pillow. He shook his head at her. She was going to really regret this in the morning.

* * *

**Awwww. Drunken Chelsea and sober Vaughn! How cute~**

**Anywho, I hope you all liked it as much as I did. Some of your guesses for Vaughn's reaction to Cheslea's crying weren't too far off the mark... but I can't help but feel bad, since it seemed like a lot of you were expecting something way more fluffy than what actually happened. Aw, well - we'll get to the real fluff soon enough!**

**Review letting me know how Chelsea will handle her first hangover! And on the first day of Spring, too... Tsk, tsk. Such a naughty girl. Speaking of Chelsea being naughty, isn't a certain cowboy's birthday coming up soon...?**

**;D**

**Also, wish my mom a happy birthday in your review! She loves you guys just as much as I do (even though she only reads the reviews I let her, ahaha)!**

**YOU ROCK**

**Update coming next weekend!**


	36. Hangover of Humiliation

**Herpaderp I'm late. By like a month.**

**BUT IT'S SUMMER NOW :D**

**Epic-long A/N with important stuffs at the bottom! Now, read :D  
**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1593  
_

_Date Updated: 6-10-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 352_

* * *

There seemed to be a nail stuck in the middle of Chelsea's forehead. No, scratch that—there were several nails. Several nails being pounded right into her skull. She slowly pulled her eyelids up, squinting at the light that burned her eyes. She rolled back in her bed, but the blankets were all tangled around her legs causing her to fall onto the hard floor.

Chelsea felt gross. Her hair was all over the place and she was still in her clothes from yesterday. Yesterday… what had happened yesterday?

She shot up. Her hands immediately flew to her throbbing head and she crumpled forward slightly, groaning at the horrible aching. Her throat was painfully dry and the room seemed to be tilting as she opened her squinted eyes. The first thing to catch her attention was a glass of water on her nightstand with a bottle of ibuprofen next to it. She saw a note on torn notebook paper and picked it up carefully, reading the black ink-letters scrawled out in a foreign hand.

_Take two pills and finish off the glass of water._

_Happy spring._

—_Vaughn_

She felt her mouth twitch up in a smile. He was definitely nicer than he let on. In fact, this was downright sweet of him.

She reread the note, her smile suddenly fading at the last line before his signature.

"Crap," she scowled, "It's spring."

She had not planned on starting off the busiest day of the year in the middle of the morning and with a nasty hangover. She assumed that was what she was experiencing as she wobbled across her house, her head light and her throat dry. Her stomach was churning and she was almost nauseous, but not quite. She sighed as she dropped two of the pills Vaughn had left her in her mouth. She washed them down with the room-temperature water. Normally she hated water when it wasn't chilled, but this lukewarm glass was like an oasis for her parched throat. She walked over to the sink and poured herself another.

As she finished it off, she glanced out the window at the sun shining from its midmorning position in the sky down to her weed-cluttered, decrepit field. This was going to be a long day.

**Ooo**

Vaughn sat awkwardly at one of the stools along the counter in Mirabelle's shop, keeping a stone-cold gaze on the wooden countertop. Julia stood tense behind the counter. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. The quiet was getting to even Vaughn, and he normally swore by silence.

It was just then that Mirabelle opened the door, sending a deafening chime throughout the room. She glanced between the two young people, then picked up a large pail of milk from outside and brought it in.

"Well, aren't you two talkative today?" She teased, setting down the jug and turning to face them, her hands on her hips. "Liven up a little—it's the first day of spring, my goodness."

"Can do, Ma." Julia smiled, but Vaughn could tell she was forcing it. Mirabelle shook her head and turned her attention to the cowboy.

"Well, I saw you at the festival last night. Chelsea sure seemed to be enjoying herself," She said, her eyes lighting up mischievously. Vaughn wasn't planning on replying.

"I'll say," Julia snickered. Vaughn shifted his mild glare in her direction. She didn't seem to be teasing in the good-natured way Mirabelle was. He felt his mouth twitch and he stood up from the stool.

"Oh," Mirabelle said, surprised at Vaughn's sudden attempt to leave, "Are you leaving?"

"Unless there is some more work to do, ma'am," he replied, his hat covering his eyes. Mirabelle shook her head.

"No, you finished it all yesterday. And I told you, you can just call me Mirabelle."

"All right. Thank'ya, ma'am."

He touched the brim of his hat towards the stout woman and, ignoring Julia completely, left the shop.

**Ooo**

Chelsea eased herself down onto the dirt beneath a stray tree on her property, basking in the cool shade. A season of sub-zero temperatures could really make the spring feel a lot hotter than it used to. She took a deep breath, bringing her gaze up to the cloudless sky. Her head was still a little light and she had adjusted to walking on the ever-tilting ground, but she was making good progress on her field so far. She surveyed her work—most of the weeds were gone, a pile of branches and a pile of stones were on the far side of the field, and she had tilled some plots for crops.

The golden cast on the farm was telling her that it was late afternoon—she had to hurry to Chen's to get her seeds before he closed.

With a little sigh, Chelsea pushed herself up and started down the pathway and into town. She passed Taro's house, where the old man was ordering Natalie and Elliot around while they lugged crates inside and out. The Inn was bustling with tourists from the previous nights' festival, which Chelsea could only vaguely remember—and only the beginning, at that.

She glanced over at Mirabelle's shop as she passed it and almost simultaneously felt her face shift into a grimace. She still had no idea what she was going to do about Julia…

Letting out a small breath, Chelsea opened the door to Chen's shop and stepped in. Chen looked up at her from behind the counter, his mouth twisting slightly into a friendly smirk.

"Feeling alright today, Chelsea?" He asked as she approached the seeds at the counter. She felt her face flush, hoping that she hadn't done anything too crazy at the festival. She'd never gotten that drunk before—actually, she'd never had more than a sip of wine at Auntie Karen's house back in Mineral Town—so she wasn't sure how she handled it.

"Yeah," she smiled, gnawing nervously on her lower lip. "Can I buy some seeds please?"

"Sure," Chen smiled, "What would you like?"

Chelsea told him what she wanted and he bent down to a cupboard to retrieve them. She glanced around. "Hey, where's Charlie?"

"Oh, he's at the beach with Eliza," Chen said, straightening up and setting the bags of seeds on the counter. "That'll be 3500G."

Chelsea counted out all of her money on the counter, but she was a hundred short. She blushed and recounted the coins quickly as the door opened behind her. How could she have miscounted her savings? She'd made sure that she'd have exactly enough for the turnips and potato seeds, and she'd find some herbs to eat until the first harvest came in. She finished recounting and was still a hundred short. Humiliation stung worse than a whole hive of bees.

"Um," she started, her voice quiet, "I'm a hundred short—I'm sorry—I'll have to not get some of the potato seeds."

"Here," a familiar voice grunted from behind her, followed by a short clang of a coin dropping on the counter. She jolted in surprise and turned around quickly, her face suddenly inches from a certain cowboy's. They both stepped back at the same time, their faces an identical pink. Chen chuckled from behind the counter and scooped up the coins.

"Thank you. Have a nice day!"

Chelsea snatched the bags of seeds form the countertop and dropped them in her rucksack as she headed out the door. Vaughn followed her unspoken instructions to leave with her. The sun was almost beginning to set and the world was orange as they stepped onto the pathway outside the shop. Chelsea turned to face him, gripping her forehead and wincing. He spoke before she could.

"How's th'hangover?" He asked, half-concerned and half-amused. She grimaced.

"Blegh," she said, shaking her head slowly. "I'm paying you back for that hundred gold in there."

"I figured y'would," he shrugged one shoulder.

"Look, about last night," she began, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, "I… uh, thanks. For the water and pills and… stuff."

"Did y'drink it all?" He asked, careful that his face showed none of the amusement he felt.

She nodded, "And then some."

"Good," he said, nodding once in approval. "A hangover's nothin' more'n dehydration."

"Really?" Chelsea asked. That would sure explain her dry throat and dizziness.

Vaughn nodded again. "Water'n bed rest'll fix any post-drinkin' headache."

"You seem to speak from experience," Chelsea remarked, desperate to get the drinking label off of her forehead for at least one moment. Vaughn frowned slightly. Sure, he had experience—not personally, but he sure had his share of hangovers to treat growing up.

"Yeah, well," he sighed, "I got this friend in th'city. He likes to get wasted."

Vaughn could physically see the lights flicker in Chelsea's eyes. "A friend in the city? Who?"

He just shrugged. "His name's Riley."

"Riley," Chelsea repeated, one eyebrow raised. "Is he nice?"

"Nice 'nough, I reckon."

"You should bring him here sometime," Chelsea smiled, starting to walk up the path towards her ranch, "I'd love to meet him!"

Vaughn started walking, too, saying, "I don't think so."

Chelsea pouted. "Why not?"

"He'd hit on'ya 'til you say 'yes' just to make'im shut up."

"Is there a problem with that?"

Vaughn's heart sped up for a moment as he looked up at her to see if she was serious. The playful smirk on her lips told him that, no, she wasn't serious in the slightest—and he was damn relieved, even if he didn't know why.

* * *

**Wooooo. It's 3:31am and I forced myself to stay up to write this. I've been on summer vacation for a whole week now and finally finished this update. I had like a paragraph written since May and JUST picked it back up. It's a shame it's kind of filler. And... boring. Vaughn and Chelsea seem to be getting a lot more comfortable with each other now, hm? He's actually talking! ...And that accent is a pain in the butt to try to keep up...**

**YEAH**

**So, who's going to ANIME EXPO 2011 this year? I AM :D You should too. It's fun. Srsly. If you are, tell me in a review/PM and we'll meet up somewhere at the con!**

**Next update will be sooner. I've been doing nothing but surfing youtube and being on facebook for the last five days, so... I really could be writing. I'll be out of town from 6/14 - 6/16, so no updates or writing then... But I should do more before that. Should.**

**Wanna know a secret?**

**I'm going to see if I can finish this fic by the time school starts again in late August. But that will seriously mean like a chapter (or more) a day... This monster-fic is going to probably reach, at this rate, a hundred chapters. Give or take. I mean, it's been three seasons in the story and it took thirty-six chapters. And Vaughn and Chelsea are just becoming legit friends. Gahhhhhhhhhhhhh curse you slow paceeeee /shot**

**Well, I'm probably delusional, so I'll go to sleep now. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reviewing! I think the error from before is probably fixed by now, so expect review replies! :D**


	37. Reconciliation

**Wow, that took too long.**

**IMPORTANT NEWS GUYS: I'm going to be holding a contest! Details in the bottom A/N, more details at the top of my profile! :D**

**Okay, go read now xP**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1855  
_

_Date Updated: 7-30-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 383_

* * *

"Alright, Daisy," Chelsea said, pushing the doors to the barn wide open, "I finally got you some grass planted!"

The small cow lifted its head up and let out a long, low moo. Chelsea grinned and led her outside and onto the meager patch of just-long-enough grass. It had grown surprisingly quickly since she'd planted it the morning before. As Daisy sauntered about in the warm sunshine, Chelsea noticed for the first time how big the calf had gotten. In fact, she was no longer a calf—she'd have to be milked soon, Chelsea'd bet.

Chelsea tilted her head at the animal that had become her best friend—since the fight with Julia, at least. Chelsea sighed as she thought of the fight. It was so stupid… She wasn't even really that hurt about Julia skipping out on their plans for Starry Night. She understood that Julia had been eagerly anticipating Elliot's invitation to have dinner together. She would have felt guilty if she'd eaten with Julia instead of letting her eat with the guy she was infatuated with. If only Chelsea had been able to keep her emotions more in-check. The only reason there was even a fight was because she was going through a hard time with her homesickness. But Vaughn was there for her, so why should she be mad at Julia? Julia'd just forgotten about the plans. It was an honest mistake.

Sighing, Chelsea kicked at the freshly-tilled dirt. She'd have to face Julia at some point. She needed to apologize. It wasn't like they could just keep going on like this, their relationship suddenly trashed and their lives filled with this stupid high-school-esque drama. She definitely needed to do something…

"Uh… Chelsea?"

Chelsea jumped, caught off-guard by the distinctly feminine, familiar voice. She turned around and looked down slightly, guilt filling her at the sight of her blonde ex-friend. "Hey, Julia."

"Hey," Julia sighed, stepping around the grass, "I see you've got Daisy out in the pasture. Is she ready to be milked yet?"

"I was just noticing that, actually," Chelsea smiled, a little nervous, "I was going to go see if I had enough for a milker from your mom."

"Actually, I was just looking over files at the shop and found something that made me wonder… when's your birthday?"

"My… birthday?" Chelsea repeated, confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I was doing something and it made me realize that we've almost known each other for three seasons and I never found out when your birthday is," Julia blushed slightly, obviously nervous and embarrassed and humbled in front of Chelsea.

"Oh…" Chelsea nodded, still a bit wary at this random conversation. Was this really going to be the first thing they'd spoken about in almost three weeks? "It's Winter seventh."

"What?" She asked, the surprise in her voice shocking Chelsea. "You mean it's already passed and you didn't tell me?"

"Oh, uh," Chelsea stuttered. To tell the truth, she'd actually just realized this as well. "I guess so."

"Wha—why?" Julia asked, clearly hurt. Chelsea frowned slightly, unhappy at her unintentionally offending the blonde.

"I didn't mean to, really!" Chelsea said, her hands up defensively, "I forgot it, too!"

"How can you forget your own birthday?" She replied, her tone not angry at all, which actually surprised Chelsea a bit.

"I-I guess… I guess there was just so much going on in the Winter, and I had so much to worry about, and I've forgotten my birthday a lot in the past and everything… I just, uh, forgot."

"Ugh, Goddess, Chelsea," Julia sighed, bringing her palm up to her forehead in annoyance, "now I feel even worse than I did before. Thanks."

"…You felt bad, too?" Chelsea asked, relieved that she wasn't the only one feeling remorse at the fight.

Julia nodded. "Of course I did. I forgot our plans for Starry Night. And if that wasn't bad enough, you were really missing home and you didn't have anyone else to celebrate with…"

"It's fine, Julia," Chelsea smiled, "Really. I should be the one apologizing. Honestly, I shouldn't have exploded on you like that. I knew how much you'd been hoping Elliot would ask you to eat with him, and I would have insisted that you do it anyways, I was just—"

"Oh, come on," Julia interrupted, smiling slightly, "Stop it. We'll just say we're both wrong, okay? Call it even."

"Okay," Chelsea smiled. It was like a heavy burden was just lifted off her shoulders. She could stand up straight again.

"Besides," Julia continued, sighing, "I'm over Elliot, anyways."

"Really?" Chelsea asked, surprised—but at the same time, she wasn't really that surprised. It was just infatuation. Infatuation always burns itself off after a while.

"Yeah," Julia nodded, "He's just not as great as I thought… He needs to be more forward. Get some courage. I was practically telling him to ask me out again and he just couldn't do it. I need to find a guy who's not afraid of me, you know?"

"Yeah," Chelsea nodded. "I know."

"So what have you been up to? It's been just about forever."

"I… I don't know. Not much, I guess. I'm glad it's finally spring," Chelsea smiled, sighing softly as she lifted her head up to feel the sunshine drench her cheeks in warmth, "I missed the sun."

"I know what you mean," Julia laughed.

"Oh, hey," Chelsea said, looking back at Julia, "Before I forget to ask—what were you doing that reminded you to ask when my birthday was?"

"I was just flipping through some of our files. I came across the one about Vaughn's employment and it says that tomorrow is his birthday, so I thought that I'd come and see when yours was."

"What?" Chelsea asked, shocked, "Vaughn's birthday is _tomorrow_?"

Julia shrugged. "That's what he wrote in his personal information, at least."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?" Chelsea said quietly, mainly to herself. Hadn't they become friends?

Julia snorted. "Maybe it's the same reason you didn't tell me when yours was. Did you at least tell _him_?"

"No…" Chelsea shook her head, thinking. "No, I didn't. Wow. I've been really out of it, I guess."

"How has everything been with our favorite cowboy, anyway? He hasn't warmed up much to me, that's for sure." Julia joked, leaning back on a nearby rock.

Chelsea smiled slightly. "Sorry. He's definitely not the most sociable guy on the island… but he does have his moments."

"Oh?" Julia asked, smirking at the soft, unintentional grin on Chelsea's face. "Like when?"

"Huh?" Chelsea asked, wiping the smile off her face. Julia's suggestive tone immediately brought Chelsea back to a certain moment on Starry Night, with her and a certain cowboy sitting with a certain closeness and she remembered a very, very certain sensation of warm, minty breath in her face… Chelsea could feel her face flushing, remembering his gaze. She surprised herself at the regret she felt at the memory—why did she feel so unhappy? It was as if she wanted him to kiss her… She blinked, pursing her lips and feeling her face heat up even more.

That was _exactly_ what she wanted.

But what did _that_ mean? Sure, Vaughn was really nice and helpful and strong and… attractive… and sometimes he was even sweet—_sometimes_—but he was just a friend. A really nice, really attractive friend. That gave her butterflies when she thought about him. Sometimes.

"Uh, Chelsea?" Julia asked, one eyebrow raised. "Hello? Earth to Chelsea. You there?"

"Oh, uh, sorry, Julia," Chelsea coughed, her mind snapping back into reality. "…What were we talking about?"

"Vaughn," Julia replied. "Times when 'he has his moments', so be more specific. By the color of your cheeks, it seems like you remembered one of them. Care to share?"

Chelsea hesitated, rubbing her forehead. Why not? It wasn't like it was a secret… maybe Julia would help her make sense of it all. "It was just Starry Night."

"Starry Night? You told me nothing happened on Starry Night." Julia said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "You lied to me."

Chelsea shrugged. "Well, I didn't really lie… nothing actually happened."

"Something had to have happened for you to blush that hard just by thinking about it," Julia smirked once again, "So, are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to guess?"

"I've already told you this much, haven't I?" Chelsea said, sighing. "Well, anyway, he came over and we were just going to sit in the field and watch the stars for a little while."

"But you didn't?"

"No, no, we did," Chelsea said, trying to remember everything prior to the awkward conclusion of the night. "We were just having a conversation—"

"You and Vaughn actually have conversations?" Julia interrupted, "Or are you just using the word loosely?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, are you the only one doing the talking?"

"No, Vaughn talks too. Hence the whole 'we were having a conversation' thing."

"Wow," Julia breathed, "He really is different around you."

"Do you want to know what happened or not?" Chelsea frowned. Sighing, she added to herself, "Jeez, if you get this worked up over him talking, I'm not sure I should tell you what happens next…"

"Sorry, sorry. Go on."

"Okay, so," Chelsea paused, gathering her thoughts, "we were talking, then he compliments me on taking good care of Daisy—"

"He _complimented_ you?"

"Julia!"

"Sorry—keep going,"

"Okay, so we were talking and he said I did a good job with Daisy, and then he looked over at me and it got… it got all tense and stuff. It was weird, but… kind of nice? I don't know. I was surprised he was actually looking me straight in the eyes for so long. And then we were suddenly really, really close, and I could feel his breath on my face, and—and our faces were so close that I swear there wasn't enough space to even put your hand in between us, and—and—and—"

"He kissed you?" Julia burst out, her eyes wider than Chelsea had ever seen them.

"No—" Chelsea started, trying to calm down. Her heart was going too fast and her face seemed like it had an eternal flush that afternoon. "No. He pulled away at the last second and walked me back to my door. Then he left really fast. I don't blame him. It was kind of awkward…"

"Are you kidding me?" Julia frowned, seriously disappointed. "He pulled away, just like that?"

"Yeah," Chelsea nodded, rubbing her neck in embarrassment. "But that's not the worst part, Julia."

"Hm?" The blonde tilted her head, curious. "What else happened?"

"Well, nothing, but… I—I don't know, I just—" Chelsea stuttered, her face heating up all over again. Why couldn't she find the right words for this? What was she even trying to say?

Julia blinked at her flustered friend in realization. "Oh my goddess, Chelsea."

"Wh—what?" Chelsea asked, glancing around nervously. She felt so vulnerable.

"You love him, don't you?"

* * *

**Julia's back, and with the hard-hitting questions we'd all love to know the answers to!**

**Alright, here's a little bit of info about this contest I'm holding...**

**It will be a fanart competition. **

**To enter, you must: Draw a fanart of any scene of American Honey (if you don't know what that is, it's the fic you're currently reading lol), upload it to your choice of image hosting site (photobucket, imageshack, deviantart, etc), send me a link to it in a PM by Saturday, August 20th at 11:59PM PST, and that's it!**

**Now, you may be wondering what the prize is for this contest. There will be a first prize winner and a second prize winner. First place wins a signed copy of a legitimate book-form copy of American Honey with a special, totally-exclusive unofficial alternate ending AND a signed legitimate book-form copy of _Cowboys and Blacksmiths_, my derpy compilation of fanfics. Second prize is a signed copy of American Honey in legitimate book-form, including the alternate ending.**

**If you're too young and/or your parents don't want you to give me your address to ship you the prize if you win (lol don't worry, I promise I'm not a random creeper), you can still enter and I'll write a oneshot on your request!**

**To see much more detailed information, go to the top of my profile! Thank you, guys, for being so awesome and supportive of me throughout this last year and a half that I've been writing this fic. You all rock so much.**

**Next update will be soon!**


	38. Like Wildfire

**Hey guys, I'm in such a hurry. We have to check out of our hotel really soon. I'm on vacation in Washington State now, have been since the 3rd. That explains the lack of updates, no?  
**

**IMPORTANT CONTEST THING: LOOK AT MY PROFILE. I UPDATED THE "HOW TO ENTER" PORTION.**

**...I forgot that takes all external links out of PMs -_-**

**Anywho, telling you guys that was my sole purpose of updating. I wrote this just to tell you that. lol.**

**Read it xP**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1645  
_

_Date Updated: 8-11-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 397_

* * *

"Love him?" Chelsea repeated. She'd heard what Julia said, but she wasn't really comprehending it. She shook her head slowly, her face still cherry red. "What… I don't…"

"Chelsea, really," Julia smiled, looking like she could burst into laughter at any moment, "I think you're just kidding yourself. You probably have been for a long time!"

"I… I don't," Chelsea stopped, the meaning of Julia's accusation finally sinking in. "Wait—no! What? Love? _Love_? I don't _love_ him! I… I just—"

"Just what?" Julia asked, her eyebrows raised knowingly. Chelsea scowled at her. Why did she have that 'I know I'm right' look on her face? This whole thing was absurd!

"Just… think of him as… as a friend."

Julia let out a loud laugh that sounded like a snort. "You wouldn't get that red-faced if you were thinking about _me_, would you?"

Chelsea sighed in exasperation, her scowl deepening in protest. "But that's different!"

"Tell me, _how_ is it different?"

"Well, with Vaughn, I—I mean—Vaughn is…" Chelsea trailed off, her eyes distant.

"Yes…?" Julia urged, still trying to contain her amusement.

Chelsea hesitated for a second, bringing her gaze down to her feet. Was she really in _love_ with Vaughn?

"Julia?" A timid, boyish voice called from the entrance to Chelsea's farm. The girls jumped and turned towards the visitor, finding a flushing redhead standing awkwardly in the path.

"Elliot?" Julia asked, "What is it?"

He walked overly, fidgeting shyly with the hem of his shirt. He glanced nervously between the two girls. Sweat gave his forehead a light sheen. "Uh, J-Julia…"

"Yes, Elliot…?" Julia asked again, her eyebrows raised. Chelsea could see a thin layer of well-concealed annoyance under her mask of patience.

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut. "W-W-Will y-you have d-dinner with m-me tonight at the D-D-Diner?"

Julia was silent.

Chelsea pursed her lips, the tension so thick in the air that it was almost hard to breathe. Why hadn't Elliot asked to speak to Julia _in private_? It really would have saved Chelsea this awkwardness…

Elliot swallowed loudly. "O-O-Or you could just, uh, uh—"

"Sorry, El," Julia smiled, "I have plans already tonight."

"Oh," Elliot said, wilting. He perked up slightly. "Th-then how about tomorrow?"

"I dunno," Julia said, putting her finger to her chin thoughtfully, "I'll let you know, okay?"

"Uh," Elliot started, but decided against protesting. He nodded. "Alright. I'll see you later, then."

"Alright. Later!" Julia smiled, waving as Elliot walked away.

"Yeah. Bye, Chelsea." Elliot called behind him as he disappeared into town.

Chelsea watched him go into his house and turned to Julia. "What are you thinking? He just asked you out—_finally_!"

"I told you," Julia shrugged, "I'm over him."

Ah, Chelsea thought. So it _was_ infatuation.

"What were we talking about…?" Julia trailed off, thinking.

Chelsea blushed. Shoot. She didn't want to bring this up again.

Julia noticed the color rise into the farmer's cheeks and her eyes lit up in realization. "Oh, right. _Vaughn_."

"I think you should just drop it, Julia." Chelsea frowned, hating her face for heating up again. It was totally not helping her prove her case.

"But, Chelsea," Julia smiled sympathetically, "I'm trying to help you—really! I can tell that he likes you, too, so—"

"What are you talking about?" Chelsea interrupted, perplexed. Vaughn would never… She shook her head. "I told you—I don't think of him like that!"

"Then how _do_ you think of him?" Julia asked, crossing her arms across her chest. "And don't just say 'as a friend' again. Tell me what exactly goes through your head when you think of him."

Chelsea sighed, irritated. "I think of how helpful he is."

"Oh? And what else?" Julia probed, leaning forward slightly.

"I think of how he's really nice, but he wasn't at first."

"Okay," Julia nodded, "Go on."

Chelsea thought. "He's… I don't know. He's… different. Like, he's mean, but he's not. He's really strong and he acts all tough but he's really gentle too. He acts like he doesn't care about anything but then he goes and shows that he _does_.

"He also has his moments when he's just downright _sweet_. It's so weird—it's like he just picks when to put his tough-guy act down and I never know when it's going to happen. And… and, uh…"

"And?" Julia repeated after a moment. She was obviously trying to disguise her combination of surprise, curiosity, and happiness. It wasn't working.

Chelsea felt that familiar heat rise into her cheeks again. She looked down at her shoes, mumbling, "And… he's pretty good-looking, too…"

"I'm so proud of you, Chelsea," Julia squealed, pulling the farmer into a sudden, backbreaking hug.

"W-Why?" Chelsea asked, pushing the overly-excited blonde away.

"Because," Julia started, her eyes gleaming, "You've finally admitted it!"

"I haven't admitted a thing," Chelsea frowned, her eyes narrowing warily. "I still don't think I… _love_ Vaughn."

"But you do like him?" Julia pressed, her enthusiasm refusing to be quelled.

Chelsea shrugged lamely. "I don't know… I've never really _liked_ anyone before…"

"You've never had a crush?" Julia asked, disbelief washing her fervor away, albeit temporarily.

"Nope," Chelsea said. "There were never boys my age in Mineral Town when I was growing up. They were all either too old or too young."

"Wow," Julia said. She was apparently speechless… until she started talking again a half a moment later. "I know you probably don't think so, but… I really think you have feelings for Vaughn. I'm only telling you because I don't want you to suddenly realize when it's too late. Or something."

"That's really nice of you, Julia, but I don't—"

"Don't you dare deny it again, Chelsea," Julia cut her off, wagging her finger in a scolding manner. "Here's a foolproof test to see if you think of him romantically: Imagine him kissing you," she paused, smiling smugly as Chelsea's face promptly flared up a pretty tomato red. "Did it disgust you?"

Chelsea grimaced. "No…"

"Do you want it to happen for real?"

"Julia," Chelsea sighed, beginning to lose her patience. "This is—"

"Answer the question!"

"What if I don't want to?"

"Just do it!"

"No!"

"Come on!"

"_No_!"

"_Do it_!"

"Fine! Goddess, _fine_—I _do_ want it to happen, okay? _I want Vaughn to kiss me_!"

"…Julia? Chel… sea?"

The girls both froze and turned towards the voice at the farm's entrance. Lanna was standing at the edge of the field, her shocked expression mirroring theirs. Julia slowly turned her head back to Chelsea. Chelsea blinked. It would be _Lanna_, of all people, to overhear something like _that_...

Chelsea swallowed, her face crimson, and brought her hand up to slap her forehead.

"What is it, Lanna?" Julia asked, her voice shattering the tense silence.

Lanna blinked, breaking free of her stupor just enough to shake her head and start back towards town. "Nothing…"

"Are you sure?" Julia called, but Lanna was already skipping through town.

"Damn," she breathed, kicking at nothing.

Julia's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't know you cursed…"

"I do when I see it fit," Chelsea grumbled, pulling at her hair. "And right now is definitely one of those times."

"Maybe she won't tell anyone," Julia said, but her optimism failed to change Chelsea's mind.

"Are you kidding? She's probably already at the beach telling Denny, and after that, it'll just spread around. I'm from a small town. I know how it works," Chelsea said, cringing as she remembered Mineral Town and the way all those rumors spread like wildfire. Her head dropped. "Damn."

"Well, it's okay," Julia smiled, placing her hand sympathetically on Chelsea's shoulder, "Really."

"How is it okay?" Chelsea asked, looking hopelessly up at her friend. Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind that struck her with such horror, she couldn't even imagine the consequences. "What if _Vaughn_ hears?"

"He won't," Julia smiled, "Honestly, Chelsea. It's not as bad as you think it is."

"How?" Chelsea scowled. She hated being the talk of the town, especially for something like this.

"Well, to be frank," Julia said, holding back a snicker, "everyone kind of already knows."

Chelsea frowned. "What?"

"It's been obvious for a while now, Chels."

"What has?"

"You and Vaughn."

"What _about_ us?"

"You have feelings for him. He has feelings for you," Julia shrugged. "It's kind of old news."

Chelsea's jaw went slack. "…_Old_ news? How old are we talking?"

"Hmm," Julia put her finger to her chin in thought. "Probably around the end of fall, beginning of winter."

"A whole season? I don't even get this. Vaughn and I are just friends," Chelsea said, and, after Julia opened her mouth to protest, added, "regardless of whether or not I want more than that."

"So you do want more than that?" Julia asked, her eyes shining. Chelsea sighed.

"If it'll get you off my case, then sure."

"Oh, Chelsea," Julia gushed, pulling the farmer into another bone-crunching hug. "This is so awesome! I'm so happy for the two of you."

"I don't know what you just heard me say," Chelsea mumbled, wriggling herself away from the blonde, "But nothing's actually going on between us. And it's not like I said that I… that I _love_ him. It's… it's just infatuation."

"Infatuation?" Julia repeated, her eyebrows raised. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," Chelsea said, frowning. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I don't know," Julia said, looking up at the sky. "It's just… isn't doesn't infatuation mean that it's a little… I don't know, unstable?"

"Yeah," Chelsea nodded. "It does."

"So you don't think you'll still feel this way in—oh, I don't know—another season, maybe?"

Chelsea thought about it. Would she still feel this way in the beginning of summer? She shook her head slowly. "No… Well, maybe. I don't know."

"Hm," Julia smirked. "I guess we'll see."

* * *

**FUTURE UPDATE NOTICE:**

**I don't know how my updating will be from here on out. It'll definitely _happen_... I'm just not sure how frequently. School starts on the 22nd and I still have 3205 pages of summer reading to do... Which is a lot. Seriously.**

**After school starts, I'm still not sure how my updating will be. I'll try to show you why so that you can understand that I'm truly trying my hardest to update as often as I can, but sometimes it's just too difficult... Here's my course list for this year:**

HR: AP Calculus AB

2: Honors Spanish III

3: Fiction Writing/Genre Studies

4: AP US History

5: Religion 11

6: AP English Language and Compisition

7: Honors Chemistry

**School Activities:**

Fall - N/A

Winter - JV Basketball

Spring - Varsity Softball

**And I have a **part-time job** two to four days a week.**

**My fiction writing class also calls for me to be writing an original work throughout the year, too, and it'll have to be prioritized before this fic because it'll be homework...**

**Blarg.**

**Okay, so, this was unnecessarily long and stuff, but I want you guys to know why I take a while to update. I'm hoping to be able to keep a bi-weekly routine, and if that doesn't work, then I may have to do tri-weekly or even monthly updates... I know that a chapter is really short, but it still takes time to write. Which makes me sad, because I just planned out all the meaty goodness of this fic, too... I WANT TO WRITE IT SO BAD**

**...you know what? I think I'll pull a secret all-nighter soon and write.**

**BD**


	39. Love Letter

**Alright y'all. This took way too long. Over four hundred reviews! You rock. And...  
**

**THE RESULTS ARE IN.**

**The winner is... posted at the end of the chapter. xP**

**Read this monster-of-a-chapter first (if you can)!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 2011  
_

_Date Updated: 9-11-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 424  
_

* * *

Vaughn slowly made his way down the stairs of his apartment building, ignoring the peeling walls in the stairwell. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, wishing he'd made coffee before leaving his one-room place. He watched his scuffed boots step over the various discolorations on the floor, following the invisible trail he'd worn into the mustard carpeting over the last seven years. It was Saturday, his first day off this week, but he'd gotten in later than usual the night before and had slept in. He'd also had a very strange dream, but he couldn't remember a thing about it. He only remembered that it was incredibly weird and that, when he woke up, he had felt very uncomfortable. He hated those kinds of dreams.

Yawning, he reached his little mail cubby in the lobby and opened it, past the point of struggling with the faulty lock on the dented door. It was rusting on the edges and it had always taken a forceful tug to get it open. He reached for the bills and junk mail, his mind just working through habit. Inside was the usual stack of envelopes. He pulled them out, accidentally dropping one on the floor in the process. Sighing, he bent down to pick it up.

He studied the small parcel in his hands for a moment, noticing how tattered and damp the cream-colored paper was. It smelled strongly of salt and fish, like it had arrived very recently via boat. This was no bill. Turning it over, he glanced over it for a return address. His eyes found the smudging black letters and his back stiffened in recognition. A shiver ran down his spine.

He sent one wary glance over his shoulder at the deserted lobby. Not even the doorman was around. He shoved the letter into his jacket pocket and carried the other mail back up to his room, unconsciously dodging the newest brown stain on the carpet near the bottom of the stairs.

**Ooo**

"Vaughn, man, what took you so long?" Riley asked as Vaughn sat down across from him at their usual table in the fast food restaurant. "I've been waiting here for like twenty minutes."

Vaughn didn't say anything. He pulled the letter out of his pocket and flicked it onto the table. Riley picked it up and raised one of his eyebrows.

"What's this?" He asked, pushing his brown hair away from his eyes.

Vaughn frowned. "Look at the return address."

Riley turned the envelope over and read the smudged letters out loud. "Sunny Island?"

Vaughn nodded.

Riley blinked at him, tossing the letter back onto the table. "So… what's the problem?"

"There ain't no problem," Vaughn said, picking the sealed parcel back up and studying it. "It's just… I don't know what it is."

"Have you tried _reading_ it?" Riley asked, his tone strongly implying that Vaughn was missing something obvious.

Vaughn hesitated for a moment, pulling at his Stetson. What if it was from Mirabelle—what if she was firing him? That was the most likely to happen. He didn't just _get_ letters. They were usually only sent to him if he had to be formally notified of something—usually the loss of a job or the death of someone he only sort-of-knew.

And then a thought hit him like a frying pan to the face. What if he wasn't fired? What if someone _had_ died? There was only one person on Sunny Island he could think of that would ever be able to get killed in such a harmless place…

He swallowed and tore the envelope open, his sudden fervor startling Riley. Vaughn pulled the paper out and hastily scanned over the first line, then the second, then the third. Rile watched as Vaughn physically sunk in relief, followed by an irritated roll of his eyes.

"What is it?" Riley asked, eyeing the back of the paper curiously.

"Nothin'," Vaughn sighed, continuing to read the letter.

"Yeah, right," Riley frowned slightly, the curiosity eating away at him. "Who's it from?"

"Chelsea," Vaughn answered absentmindedly, still reading—or possibly rereading, Riley couldn't tell—the neat lettering.

"Chelsea?" Riley repeated, a smirk growing on his lips. "Is that her name? The girl on the island?"

"Yeah," Vaughn said, still acting distracted. He finished reading the letter and set it down, trying to reconstruct his curt expression. "I thought you knew that."

"I don't think you've ever told me her name," Riley said, his eyes teasing. "So, what does it say? Is it a love note?"

"Naw," Vaughn scowled as his face heated up at his friend's taunting. "Why the hell would she—?"

"What is it, then?" Riley interrupted, snatching the letter from the table before Vaughn could even decide if it was something he didn't want Riley to read.

The brunette held the letter close to his face, studying the small, neat letters. "She has cute handwriting."

Vaughn rolled his eyes, his face still pink. Riley chuckled and read the letter.

**Ooo**

_Dear Vaughn,_

_I just found out that your birthday is tomorrow! Why didn't you tell me? This letter probably won't even get to you in time. I hope it gets to you before you go back to work. Anyways, happy birthday! Or maybe happy belated birthday. Either way, I hope you had a really good day. You're twenty-six now, right? That sounds so old… In a good way, I mean! Well, not a good way, but—eh, nevermind._

_I also just realized when I was talking to Julia (we made up just a little bit ago, actually) that I never told you when my birthday was, and she said that I couldn't expect you to tell me when yours was if I didn't tell you when mine is so… uh, sorry, I'm just rambling now. My birthday was back on winter seventh, so I'm not a teenager anymore and haven't been for a while, ha ha!_

_So I guess I should wrap this up. I can't wait until Wednesday! It's my favorite day. _

_I'll see you soon,_

_Chelsea XOXO_

_P.S. I have a present for you when you get back!_

_P.P.S. Mirabelle told me your address in the city and helped me send it, if you were wondering how I knew where you live—and I know you totally were._

**Ooo**

Riley read the letter, his smirk growing with every line. He set it on the table, his eyebrows raised at Vaughn. There were so many new questions in his head now that he'd read that letter. Where to start?

Vaughn picked the letter up grouchily and shoved it in his coat pocket. "Quick smirkin' like that."

"Vaughn," Riley said, biting back laughter, "she's barely _twenty_?"

Vaughn rolled his eyes. "So?"

"Isn't that a little young?" Riley said, snorting. "I mean, I guess she's legal. But still."

Vaughn scowled, his face burning in humiliation. He shouldn't have let Riley read it. He should have known Riley would tease him.

"Ah, sorry," Riley said, chuckling. He still had that taunting smirk on his lips. "But seriously, she seems sweet. Silly, maybe, but still sweet. She's even got a present for you."

"Whatever," Vaughn frowned, although he was kind of intrigued at the possibility of getting a birthday present. He hadn't received one in decades.

"Honestly, man, she's got some serious thing for you," Riley said. He wished Vaughn would realize it—and soon. "You should make a move or something."

"What are you talkin' about?" Vaughn said, still frowning. He'd decided that ignoring Riley when he got on these rants wasn't doing anything to discourage his brunette friend, so humoring him might just make it easier.

Riley rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Vaughn. We've been over this. You like her, she likes you—you should just ask her out or something."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." Vaughn growled, his face heating up. Why did Riley think Chelsea and he could be a _couple_? That was just weird. They were friends… Vaughn nodded to himself. They were just friends.

"Vaughn, your face turns bright red every time we talk about her—and we talk about her all the time."

"That's 'cause you always bring her up," Vaughn protested, trying to keep himself from flushing.

"You almost kissed her, man."

Cue flush.

"See?" Riley said, motioning towards the flustered cowboy. "Tell me—did you _want_ to kiss her?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Vaughn scowled, his face still hot. What made Riley think he could suddenly ask stuff like that?

"The important kind," Riley replied, leaning forward slightly. "So? Did you? _Do_ you?"

"I—I—" Vaughn stuttered, words not forming like he wanted them to. He felt humiliated under Riley's knowing gaze. He felt anger heat his face with the embarrassment. "I ain't answerin' that."

"Alright, fine," Riley shrugged, leaning back again. "I don't need to know—but you sure as hell do, and soon, I think."

**Ooo**

Knock, knock, knock.

Chelsea yawned, rolling out of bed. The sun was barely starting to rise. Why did people on this island insist on coming to her door so early?

"Hello?" Chelsea asked as she opened the door, her voice cracking from sleep. A petite girl who looked no older than she stood in front of her. She had short, brown hair and was wearing a spotless gown that seemed to be a religious garment.

The girl smiled at Chelsea, her eyes squinting closed. "Hello, I'm Alisa."

"Chelsea," Chelsea said, extending her hand to Alisa.

Alisa shook it firmly, surprising Chelsea with her strength. "Nathan and I have just arrived here. A church has been built next to the Goddess Pond in the forest—we're here to serve the Goddess through that church."

"I see," Chelsea nodded, smiling absentmindedly. She remembered the church back in Mineral Town where she'd gone everyday to get an education. There were a lot of memories in that church. "I'm really glad that a church is opening on the island."

"Nathan is up there now, finishing the interior," her smile turned apologetic, "I'm sorry he couldn't come to introduce himself too."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Chelsea said, waving off her apology, "I can just head up there later and meet him."

"That'd be great," Alisa said, still smiling. Chelsea liked her—she seemed t be a genuinely happy person. Pursing her lips slightly and tilting her head, Alisa continued. "I actually also wanted to ask something of you, if that's alright."

"Sure," Chelsea replied, "what is it?"

"Well, the Goddess Festival is coming up in a few days. Nathan and I were hoping that we could celebrate here on the island, even though it's very short notice," she explained, her smile apologetic once again. "Anyway, we'd like for all the young ladies on the island to perform a dance, as is the custom for the festival."

"That sounds like fun," Chelsea smiled. She remembered going to the Goddess festival back at home. She'd left before she'd had the chance to participate in the dance, though.

"That's great to hear," she replied, happiness and relief obviously sweeping over her. "I asked that sweet girl—Lanna, I think her name is—to ask you earlier if you'd like to participate, but I wasn't sure if you'd received the message."

So that explained why Lanna had come over before. Chelsea shrugged. "Well, I know now. When will the rehearsals be?"

"Do you think you could come to the meadow tomorrow around noon? That seemed to be the best time for the other girls."

"Sure," Chelsea smiled. "I suppose we'll be learning quickly then, huh? The festival is on the eighth, right?"

"Yes," Alisa nodded, "In only three days."

"I'm looking forward to it," Chelsea said, her feet starting to feel cold form the crisp morning air blowing inside. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Alright," Alisa nodded again, beaming at the farmer. "See you!"

Chelsea closed her door and sighed. It seemed that there could never be a dull day on this island.

* * *

**Alright. I'm sososo happy that so many of you guys participated, and all the entries were so awesome! Personally, I loved them all. You guys picked awesome scenes and drew them really well. It's a good thing that I wasn't the only judge, because I would never have been able to determine winners. I got a group of five people (plus myself) and had them rate each entry on a scale of 1 to 10 in three categories. The winners were the ones with the highest average of those three categories. It was close!**

**Without further adieu, the first-place winner is _Angel Little _with her lovely illustration of a certain scene from Chapter 30!**

**Second place was a close one, but the winner is _Cherryblossomtree154 _with her spot-on drawing of the opening scene!**

**Send me a PM letting me know you saw this, please!**

**Congratulations! Thanks and great job to everyone who participated-the entries are all printed out and in my locker at school, I love them so much. xP**

**in other news, updates will most likely continue to be spaced out. I wrote this one incrementally over two weeks. I don't know when I'll have the opportunity to sit down long enough to church out the next one, but I'll figure something out! Thanks for reading and reviewing, you guys. I love y'all to bits :)**


	40. Oh, Goddess, Part 1

**Double update, y'all! This is my thanks to you guys for putting up with 1) my slow updating and 2) the slow-ness of the plot. I've been getting a lot of (well, more than usual) reviews complaining about how there's no fluff. I totally sympathize with you. I hate that there's no fluff. It's coming, it's coming! Don't worry. I have intense amounts of notes on this fic and can safely say that there IS fluff in the future.**

**Anywho, on with the Goddess Festival! (This was originally one big chapter - like 3,000 words - but I decided to make it into two so that I wouldn't disrupt the chapter-length-pattern. I hope that explains the abrupt ending of this chapter and the abrupt beginning of the next!)**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1542  
_

_Date Updated: 10-10-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 470_

* * *

"Okay, from the top, girls!"

A chorus of groans and grumbles rose from the small crowd of young ladies.

Lanna huffed and crossed her arms, pouting at Alisa. "But we've been practicing almost non-stop for the last three days!"

"Yeah," Natalie nodded, stretching her arms in front of her, "and we've been at this for almost two hours already this morning alone."

"The festival is going to start soon and we're not even in costume yet," Julia added, frowning down at her dirty warm-up clothes.

Alisa studied them. "Well, I suppose you guys have the dance down pretty well…"

"Alisa," Lanna smiled, "we've got it perfect. Don't worry about it!"

"Alright," Alisa sighed, an uneasy smile lifting her lips. "Chelsea, do you think you're ready? You're awfully quiet over there."

Chelsea was gazing up into the sky, lost in her own thoughts. She wasn't sure she could do this—there were too many turns, spins, and skips in the routine. She was going to trip. She knew it. And then she'd humiliate herself and ruin the whole festival. Even during rehearsals she couldn't get the routine completely right…

"Chels?" Julia asked, snapping Chelsea back to reality. "You listening?"

"Oh," Chelsea said, kicking the dirt of the ground near Goddess Pond, "I'm sorry—I was just, uh…"

"Spacing out? No surprise there," Julia smirked, elbowing the farmer. "Well, should we all meet back here before the dance, Alisa?"

Alisa looked up, her finger placed thoughtfully on her chin. "How about everyone meets outside the meadow at eleven thirty? Be sure to be in your costumes."

"When do we have to do the dance?" Natalie asked. She clearly wasn't very excited for this festival.

"Yeah—I thought the festival started at ten," Lanna said, tilting her head. "Do we dance later? Or… what?"

"Traditionally, the dance takes place at noon. If everyone gets there half an hour early, we can maybe do some last minute rehearsing outside the meadow," Alisa smiled.

The girls suppressed their groans.

"Alright, you're all free to go! Go get ready—and remember to smile!"

**Ooo**

Chelsea looked at her reflection as Julia pinned the last flower in her hair. She didn't really recognize herself. Her hair was cleanly tied up in loose curls, her bandana was not on her head, and her face was clean of all dirt—she was even wearing mascara. Mascara! Could you believe it? Of course, she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy getting dolled up. Every girl likes to look pretty once in a while, but it had been so long since she'd had the opportunity that it felt weird.

Julia stood behind Chelsea, adding finishing touches to her own hair. She smiled at Chelsea through the reflection. "You ready?"

"Not really," Chelsea said, the butterflies in her stomach making her feel sick. The dance was bad enough, but looking like this in front of the whole island?

"Why not?" Julia frowned. "You look so pretty!"

"That's the problem," Chelsea sighed, fidgeting with the long, flowy dress all the girls would be wearing. It was the same color as her eyes, as almost all the girls had noted. "I'm going to make a fool of myself, Julia."

"No, you're not," Julia laughed. "Why would you say that?"

"I'm going to trip, or forget the choreography, or just freeze—I know it!" Chelsea exclaimed, waving her arms in a panic. She couldn't do this! "I'm going to ruin the whole festival, and poor Alisa will be crushed—she put so much effort into this whole thing."

"Just focus on the steps," Julia smiled. "You can do it. Even you do make a mistake—hey, you're only human."

"I guess," Chelsea sighed. "But I'm still nervous…"

"Why?" Julia smirked. "Is it because you know a certain cowboy will be there?"

"No," Chelsea said, flushing. She hadn't even thought about the fact that Vaughn would be there. "But that _really_ doesn't help."

"Just relax! You'll do fine."

"But—"

"No buts! It's already eleven fifteen. We'll be late if we stick around here much longer!"

Chelsea sighed as Julia pulled her out the door. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

**Ooo**

Vaughn walked grudgingly behind Mirabelle on their way to the meadow. Mirabelle had insisted he go to the festival and it wasn't like he was going to be blatantly rude to his boss. Anyone else, sure. But not his boss.

They walked into the meadow and Vaughn fought the urge to roll his eyes. The clearing was all decked out in pastel colors—everything from streamers to balloons to flowers. It was so _happy_. Sure, it was the Harvest Goddess's birthday, but why did it all have to be so cutesy? He sighed, scanning the crowds of villagers and tourists. Chelsea was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't sure if his heart was dropping in relief or disappointment.

Felicia waved at Mirabelle, who then turned towards Vaughn, saying, "Vaughn, dear, you'll be alright on your own, right?"

Vaughn simply nodded and let the woman go greet her friends. The cowboy sighed again, finding a tree on the edge of the meadow to lean against. He decided it had to be relief he was feeling at Chelsea's absence—after all, he'd spent all of yesterday avoiding her. Not because she'd done anything, but, well, he just didn't want to face her. He grimaced at his boots on the damp grass. He was such a wuss. He was too freaked out at the idea of acknowledging Chelsea's letter to go and talk to her. Although the idea of a birthday present had seemed interesting at first, now he was only nervous. What would it be? What if it was something he hated? Or worse—what if it was something he actually _liked_? How was he supposed to respond? He wasn't good at the whole "gratitude" thing. He kicked at the ground, ripping up a dandelion. This sucked.

"Alright, everyone! Your attention please!" A loud voice boomed out from the center of the meadow, silencing the hum of the crowd.

Vaughn stopped leaning on the tree and walked closer to the crowd. He'd never been to a Goddess Festival before; was there some sort of main attraction or something?

"To honor the Harvest Goddess on her birthday, we'll be celebrating with the traditional Goddess dance, as preformed by the village's maidens! Everyone, please give them your respectful attention!" The priestly man said, and with a bow, stepped off the small box-like podium.

An airy, happy melody started to play. Vaughn glanced around for its source, but his eyes stopped at the entrance to the meadow. He could hear everyone in the crowd turn their attention towards the bridge as well.

In a straight line, with a young brunette Vaughn had never met before leading, came Lanna, Julia, Natalie, and—his heart thumped when he reached the end—Chelsea.

He almost wanted to laugh at her. She had this look of uncomfortable concentration on her face that was drastically different form the smiles of the other girls. They continued in their line to the center of the clearing. Vaughn was thankful he was tall enough to see from his spot in the back.

As they lined up, the music slowed almost to a stop. He noticed their matching costumes—blue dresses with flowers all thrown in their hair. They looked like they had just rubbed their heads in Felicia's flower garden. He stopped his gaze on Chelsea again, struck by how pretty she looked with her hair fixed and her face all bright and her eyes the same color as the dress. She cleaned up good.

He frowned, surprised at himself—since when did he notice those kinds of things?

The melody picked up, sending the girls into an obviously carefully-rehearsed routine. They walked in a circle, walked the other way, spun—Vaughn found the dance a bit on the dull side, if he was being honest. But Chelsea's expression was priceless—he couldn't stop watching her. Her tongue was even sticking out in concentration. He shook his head slightly at her. A _chicken_ could do this routine, and _she_ was nervous about messing up—he could tell. They continued with their simple dance. Natalie's movements seemed too harsh, Lanna's seemed too exaggerated, Julia's too slow, and Chelsea's too careful. He felt himself smirking—they were horrible.

The music picked up once again, and all the girls broke away for the finale. They all spun and hopped and skipped, falling back into their original lineup one at a time. First the new girl fell into position. She curtsied low and held that pose as the others followed. Next came Lanna, then Julia. Natalie spun over and bowed. Vaughn watched as Chelsea started her spin over to the line. She stopped herself next to Natalie and stumbled slightly—was she dizzy from all the spinning?—and bent over to finish the dance with a bow. Vaughn guessed she _was_ rather dizzy as she managed to lose her balance right at the end—she fell forward when she tried to curtsy, doing a somersault of sorts. The music ended with a flourish as Chelsea scrambled up and curtsied properly.

* * *

**Continued next chapter!**


	41. Oh, Goddess, Part 2

**Continued from last chapter!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1407  
_

_Date Updated: 10-10-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 470_

* * *

A thick silence filled the air of the meadow before roars of laughter sprang from the crowd. The last thing Vaughn could see before the crowd shifted and blocked his view was Chelsea's humiliated face flushing bright red as Julia and Lanna snickered at her.

Vaughn felt his face pull into a frown. They shouldn't be teasing her like that—especially not when the whole island and then some were already laughing at her. She looked completely humiliated up there, and while Vaughn thought that there was no reason to feel that way—it was just a stupid festival, after all—they still shouldn't be making her feel worse about it. Knowing her, she was probably on the verge of tears.

Vaughn saw a flash of blue in the corner of his eye, heading towards the entrance of the meadow. He sighed, frustrated. That was probably Chelsea. He followed her out of the meadow, no one in the crowd even noticing he was leaving.

**Ooo**

Chelsea slowed her pace down to a slow walk as she got out of the meadow. She watched her bare feet on the stone pathway. She'd kicked off her shoes before the performance without telling Alisa. If she'd tried to do that dance in those monstrous heels they'd given her… she cringed at the thought. It was bad enough that she'd managed to screw up—and right at the end, too—she didn't need those heels making it worse.

She kicked at a pebble on the path, wiping at her eyes. She was doing a good job of not breaking down. The urge to cry had surprisingly passed as soon as she'd gotten out of the public's eye. She glanced at her hand as she brought it away from her eye. It was a smudgy, black mess. Chelsea groaned. Her mascara—she'd forgotten about it. And now her right eye was probably very similar to that of a raccoon's.

That was just perfect. She ruined the festival, humiliated herself in front of everyone, and now her makeup was screwed up. There was a reason she never bothered with the stuff.

She looked up at the clear sky, trying to cheer herself up. The sun was shining. It was warm. She inhaled slowly, drinking in the season. And then she heard footsteps behind her.

"Hey," a familiar voice said.

She didn't want to turn around for a few reasons. Firstly, Vaughn had been avoiding her yesterday and she figured it was because of her letter. Secondly, he'd just come from the meadow and that meant she'd seen her horrible, klutzy dance. Thirdly, she just knew that her makeup was all messed up and her hair was probably going every which way and vain as it may have been, she didn't want that cowboy to see her when she felt so horribly unattractive. Feebly, she tried to wipe off the smudged makeup around her eye.

**Ooo**

Vaughn frowned at her back. Why wasn't she turning around? Was she mad at him for avoiding her? That would make sense. He cursed himself for not just manning up and facing her yesterday. She still wasn't turning around. Oh, Goddess—why did he follow her? He didn't even think about it. This was a bad idea. His heart was beating faster and it made him uncomfortable. Was he sweating? Why was he so damn nervous?

Her back still facing him, she brought her hand up to wipe at her eyes. He grimaced. She _was_ crying. Damn it. Damn, damn, _damn_ it. Sure, he'd dealt with her tears before, but before he wasn't so irrationally nervous. He froze as she turned around.

She gave him an uneasy smile, her shoulders scrunched up and her head tilted awkwardly, "So… uh, did you like the festival?"

He watched her for a second, taking in her messy hair—the flowers and curls were falling out, replaced by bits of grass—and her generally disheveled appearance. Her dress was lop-sided and grass stained at her knees. When he saw her one raccoon-eye, he couldn't help it—he snorted.

"You look ridiculous," he laughed, shaking his head at her.

She flushed, feeling uncomfortable. "Gee, thanks."

"Sorry," Vaughn mumbled, composing himself. The nerves were back. Since when did he get this nervous around her? "You did a good job."

Chelsea snorted this time. "Yeah, right. All I did was make a fool of myself in front of everyone on the island."

"So?" Vaughn replied, raising his eyebrows. "Ain't that what you usually do? I mean, don't you think they were expecting that?"

Chelsea frowned, stunned. She didn't _want_ to feel offended, because he was probably right, but still—why would he _say_ that?

Vaughn saw the hurt expression on the farmer's face and panicked on the inside. Damn him and his inability to talk to people. "Sorry—that, uh, that came out wrong,"

"No, no, you're right," Chelsea said, swallowing hard. She glanced behind her, determined to leave before he realized she was upset… even though it was probably too late. "Well, I need to go—Daisy still needs to be fed."

As she turned around, Vaughn racked his brains for something to say. He had no idea why, Goddess help him, but he really didn't want her to leave upset at him. He said the first articulate thing that came to his head. "Wait! You, uh, said you had a present for me…"

Chelsea froze. So he did get the letter. She turned around, seeing him awkwardly standing there in the middle of the path. She swore he looked like he was kicking himself for saying that. It was kind of cute. She felt her face heat up.

"Yeah, I do," she said, walking back towards him. She smiled slightly. "It's at my house—you can come help with Daisy, if you want."

Vaughn nodded, pulling at his Stetson. They continued up the path, both trying to contain the butterflies in their stomachs.

**Ooo**

Chelsea walked into the barn, changed back into her usual shorts-shirt-boots-bandana ensemble. She held Vaughn's unwrapped gift behind her back. Vaughn was absentmindedly brushing Daisy, evidently lost in his own thoughts. Chelsea spoke, startling him out of his reverie.

"Well, are you ready for your present?" She asked, smiling.

Vaughn blushed, nodding weakly and making sure his hat covered his face. He really wished he had just held his tongue and let her walk away earlier. He hated surprises. Plus, it seemed that Riley's dirty mind had gotten to him while Chelsea was off changing.

"Here you go," Chelsea said, holding a bottle of milk out to Vaughn.

Vaughn took it, once again unsure if he was feeling relief or disappointment. He nodded to her, "Thanks."

"It's Daisy's," Chelsea smiled. "She's finally giving milk, and I thought that you should be the first to try it—if that's okay."

Vaughn looked at the bottle, then at the brown cow beside him, then up at Chelsea. She'd been working for this since back in fall. She'd done everything she could to raise Daisy well—including stupidly venturing out into a blizzard to buy fodder. This bottle of milk was the first result of all that hard work—and she was giving it to _him_.

He took a sip. Chelsea watched him expectantly, clearly waiting for his verdict.

"Well? How is it?" Chelsea asked, wringing her hands nervously.

Vaughn nodded. "It's good. Thanks."

Chelsea beamed at him. Her face look like it was _glowing_. Had _he_ made her do that? He felt a flush crawl up his neck. His gaze fell on her mouth and he suddenly remembered Riley's obnoxious comments from their last conversation.

_"Tell me—did you _want_ to kiss her?"_

Vaughn swallowed. He _did_ want to kiss her—back then _and_ right now. Did that really mean what Riley said it meant? Vaughn pursed his lips. Why was he suddenly so nervous around her? Why _did_ he get embarrassed whenever Riley asked about her?

He tried to think about it rationally.

He failed.

There was absolutely nothing rational about this. He never lost his cool like this. There was no explanation. Maybe Riley was right. Maybe he was in love with her.

Oh, Goddess.

He and Chelsea's eyes met. His face flushed harder, his heart beat so fast and loud that he couldn't hear a thing, and his stomach was doing flips.

He was in love with Chelsea.

* * *

**AAGHGHAHAHAGHAFLKD:JSDDSJ FINALLY.**

**It only took him forty chapters and a prologue to figure it out. I wonder if things will get easier or harder now that they've both had their eyes opened?**

**UPDATE INFORMATION: November is National Novel Writing Month, as some of you know, and I've been a participant the last two years. Last year, November fell in the middle of my horrible five-month-hiatus from fanfiction, so it didn't really disrupt anything. This year, unfortunately, it will - I don't believe I'll be able to update this story at all during the month of November unless I get chapters written beforehand and update them incrementally. I'll try to update before November starts, but I'm not sure how that will work out. Just know that, even if the next update is in December, it'll still be there!**

**Thanks for bearing with me, guys. I hope I do not disappoint.**

**So... how about Vaughn realizing his love for Chelsea?**


	42. Freaking Out

**I'm alive - and I have a new chapter!**

**This was written back in October specifically so I'd have a chapter to put out in November, since I can't write any more of this story until the end of the month (NaNoWriMo ftw!). I actually forgot about it until just now.**

**Enjoy!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1728  
_

_Date Updated: 11-20-11  
_

_Current Review Count: 502_

* * *

"H-Hello?"

Chelsea sat up from her dirty spot in the middle of her carrot plot, wiping at her face and accidentally smearing mud across her forehead. A petite girl with strikingly dark hair and pale skin was standing a few yards away, looking incredibly nervous. There was a sheen of sweat on her delicate face even though it wasn't even seventy degrees out yet.

"Hello," Chelsea smiled, standing up and wiping her hands down the front of her shorts. She extended her now-clean hand to the girl, meeting the purple gaze behind her glasses. Her eyes reminded her a little of Vaughn, but this girl's eyes were softer. "I'm Chelsea—have we met?"

The girl hesitated a moment before taking Chelsea's hand and shaking it carefully. "I-I'm Sabrina."

"It's nice to meet you, Sabrina," Chelsea smiled. "Are you here visiting, or…?"

"Oh, my father and I just moved in here… he heard about the mines on this island and they're apparently very well-stocked with gems and precious metals."

"Oh? Is he a blacksmith?" Chelsea asked, thinking of her own father.

Sabrina smiled slightly, shaking her head. "Oh, no. He works for Regis Mining."

Chelsea's eyes flashed with recognition. Regis Mining. They'd tried to buy out her great-grandfather's blacksmith shop back in Mineral Town to set up a station at the Mineral Mines. Luckily the mayor hadn't given the company a permit to come in, so her father and grandfather were still in business. Sabrina seemed to sense Chelsea's thoughts because the mousy girl smiled apologetically.

"My father is very ambitious—I hope you don't…"

"Oh, no! I was just trying to think of where I'd recognized the company name from."

"And you remembered?"

Chelsea smiled hesitantly. "Yes. Well, I think so. Someone tried to buy out my dad and grandpa's blacksmith shop back in Mineral Town."

"Oh," Sabrina said, surprised. "Really? I hope that you still have the shop."

"We do," Chelsea replied, relaxing at Sabrina's response. She seemed to sympathize with Chelsea. "The mayor didn't issue the permit to Regis Mining."

"I remember that," Sabrina smiled softly, laughing slightly. "Father was absolutely irate."

"What does your father do in the company?" Chelsea asked, the curiosity getting to her. It must have been something in management.

"He's the head of the company," Sabrina smiled. "He's Regis."

Chelsea gasped slightly, her eyes widening. She was bad-mouthing the company and Sabrina's father was the big boss! "Oh—I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Sabrina cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it. He's a little hard to get used to."

"Okay," Chelsea said, smiling apologetically. "Well, I hope I'll see you around."

"Me too," Sabrina said, curtsying slightly and lifting the hem of her pink dress to stay out of the mud. "See you later!"

**Ooo**

Oh Goddess. Oh Goddess. Oh Goddess.

Vaughn had been in freak-out mode for the last day and a half. He didn't pay attention to where he was walking as he hurried off the pier of the city. His mind was already too busy freaking out. He was totally freaking out. Had he mentioned that he was _freaking out_?

"Vaughn, man—hey," Riley said, stepping in front of Vaughn outside of his apartment building. Vaughn didn't even notice he was so close to the building. "What's up? You look like you just saw a ghost or something."

Vaughn blinked, swallowed, and rubbed his sweaty palms on his black jeans. He glanced behind him and motioned for Riley to follow him as he walked into the lobby of the building. Riley looked at him like he was crazy—which, at this point, he probably _was_—but followed him anyway.

**Ooo**

"Okay," Riley sighed, closing the door behind him as the two men walked into the dirty apartment. He sat down on Vaughn's dusty recliner. "What's up?"

Vaughn was pacing around the small kitchenette. He stopped and leaned against the counter, throwing his hat next to the microwave and running his gloved hand through his hair. Where to begin?

Riley leaned forward. "Dang, man, you have some crazy bags under your eyes. Did you sleep last night?"

"Naw," Vaughn sighed, slumping back. He had been too busy freaking out to sleep.

"Why?" Riley asked, frowning. Vaughn had often gone nights without sleeping—Riley knew that to be true—but he was never this worried on top of that. Something was terribly wrong for him to be so perturbed and actually _show_ it.

Vaughn sighed. Why was he so damn awful at articulating his feelings? Sure, he was sorely out of practice, but even he knew that if he kept this bottled up for much longer he would go completely insane. He'd only realized he was in love with Chelsea less than two days ago, but he was already past the point of being able to function properly. Friday, when he was at Forget-Me-Not, he had managed to start out the day groggy from little-to-no sleep. He put his boots on the wrong feet. He put salt in his coffee instead of sugar—and he didn't even usually put sugar in his coffee, which made that especially odd. He dropped bags of feed, accidentally left the door to the chicken coop open, and entered his weekly sales information in incorrectly.

And that was all in _one_ day.

He had to figure something out or he was going to lose his job.

"Well?" Riley urged, standing up. "What is going on with you? You are acting seriously weird, man."

"You were right," Vaughn said, putting his hat back on. He looked at his lanky friend.

Riley raised his eyebrow. "Well, I generally am. But what about this time?"

"I love her," Vaughn sighed, looking at the floor as his face heated up. "I love her, Riley."

Riley was silent. The air in the room grew thick and Vaughn tried to regret everything that had happened in the last three seasons, from his reassignment to that damn island to this very moment when he told his best friend something that he apparently did not want to hear.

"Oh my goddess," Riley finally said. "Finally! Damn it Vaughn, it only took you about _forever_!"

Vaughn looked up at him, irritated. "This ain't a good thing, man."

"Like hell it isn't," Riley smiled, throwing his hands up. "This is great! Did you tell her?"

"T-Tell—?" Vaughn stuttered, his mind on the verge of exploding at the thought of actually telling the farmer about his new, weird, awful feelings. "_Hell_ no!"

"When are you going to?" Riley pressed, his enthusiasm failing to be dampened.

"I'm _not_," Vaughn hissed, walking over and sitting down on his futon. "I just need a way to regain my sanity before this… _thing_ passes."

"Aw, c'mon," Riley said, sitting down in the recliner again. "That's no way to think. You need to tell her. That's the only way you're ever going to get your _sanity_ back."

"I can't tell her." Vaughn said, frowning. He rubbed at his tired eyes, feeling a headache coming on.

"Why not?" Riley argued. "I'd bet she'd be pretty happy to hear it."

"I doubt that," Vaughn mumbled, mainly to himself. Chelsea couldn't love him back. He was the _epitome_ of unlovable. Just ask his father. Actually, scratch that—ask _anyone_. He was grouchy, mean, bad-tempered, antisocial, scary, closed-off… he could go on forever.

"Why?" Riley asked. "From what I hear—which is only what _you_ tell me, and that isn't much—she acts like she likes you alright."

"She might like me," Vaughn said, gazing morosely at his boots, "but she sure as hell can't _love_ me."

"I think you're wrong."

"I _know_ I'm right."

Riley stood up. "Then you're more ignorant than I thought you were."

Vaughn stood up as well. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Riley frowned. He looked at Vaughn with disappointment—a look usually foreign to him. "Are you really just going to give up?"

Vaughn thought about it. "I reckon I am."

"Don't you think you deserve to be happy?"

"Not really."

Riley shook his head and headed for the door. He opened it but stopped halfway into the hallway. He turned around and let out a sigh. "Even if you don't think you deserve to be happy—think about her. Maybe she does love you. Even if she doesn't, maybe she will soon. Maybe she does and just doesn't know it yet. It doesn't matter if _you_ don't think _you_ deserve to be happy. If she has any sort of feelings for you—and you and I both know that there's _something_ there—then you have to think about what she deserves. If you want her to be happy, then damn it, Vaughn, you're just going to have to suffer through happiness, too.

Before you go assuming that no one could ever love you, think about how she treats you and let logic do the rest. Maybe she just needs to realize it. Give her some time. _Court_ her. Do whatever the hell you've been doing so far, because it seems to be working. For goddess' sake, just don't be so _damn_ dense."

Vaughn watched the door slam behind his coworker, shocked. He sunk back onto the futon. What if Riley was right? He was right before. Could Chelsea actually care about him, too? The idea made Vaughn's stomach turn anxiously. He didn't think he deserved to be happy, but he _knew_ that Chelsea did. Vaughn wanted her to be happy. If she was happy with him, then maybe he could be happy with her, too. Vaughn had never thought of it like that.

But there was also the possibility that Chelsea only saw him as a friend. Vaughn had just assumed that this was the case. What if he admitted his feelings to her and she rejected him? His heart beat uncomfortably and his stomach dropped at that thought. He would probably end up losing her friendship and then he'd fall back into his old life. He'd probably quit working on the island. He'd never see her again. His stomach dropped uncomfortably again.

He leaned forward, sighing heavily at this revelation.

The only problem now was determining if Chelsea really did have feelings for him.

…

How the _hell_ was he supposed to figure that out?

* * *

**Vaughn! You silly goose! You're so adorable when you're emotionally unstable :3**

**Alright, y'all. This is RJB signing off until December. Thanks for your patience, loyalty, and encouragement! Next chapter will be out soon(er than this one)!**

**P.S.**

**ZOMG OVER 500 REVIEWS I LOVE YOU ALL :D**


	43. Chocolate Cookies

**Woohoo! I made it through November. I ended up with about 52,000 words, and I wrote 34,000 of them over my Thanksgiving break. xP**

**Here's the update I promised! It's decent, I think. I don't know how NaNoWriMo affected my writing, but I feel like it's less... deep. I dunno. I'm not sure i like it.**

**Anywho, on with the story!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1890  
_

_Date Updated: 12/3/11_

_Current Review Count: 521_

* * *

"Hey, Jules—what's the date today?"

Julia turned from her spot behind the counter of the animal shop, meeting Chelsea's gaze. "Did you really forget?"

"It's not like I have a calendar," Chelsea frowned, rolling her eyes. "It's, what? The thirteenth?"

"Chelsea," Julia exclaimed, shocked. "It's the fourteenth—spring thanksgiving!"

"Oh, right," Chelsea said, sighing. "I thought that was coming up."

"It's Wednesday," Julia said, smiling slyly. "Do you think Vaughn is going to give you chocolate?"

"Yeah, right," Chelsea laughed. Vaughn would never. Even if he did have feelings for her—which was very unlikely—he definitely wouldn't show it by participating in a festival like this. "Could you actually see him doing that?"

"No," Julia snorted. "But he's probably considering it!"

"I doubt that," Chelsea mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up. She was still uncomfortable with the whole 'acknowledging her feelings for Vaughn' thing . Julia always made it sounds like Chelsea was in love with him, which was probably not the case. Well, Chelsea had never actually been in love, but she was pretty sure she didn't _love_ him. Just liked him. A lot.

"He really might be," Julia said, rolling her eyes. "Have a little more faith in him."

"I still don't think he even thinks of me like that," Chelsea rolled her eyes.

"Well, you're wrong. But even if he did only think of you as a friend, he could still give you chocolate. There's not necessarily a romantic implication with that. It's when you get chocolate cookies that you have to start wondering."

"Speaking of cookies," Chelsea said, jumping on the opportunity to change the subject. "I saw Elliot leave his house pretty early. Was he coming over here to deliver something?"

"Ugh," Julia groaned, placing her head on the counter. "Don't remind me."

"What happened?" Chelsea asked, glad Julia took the bait.

"He came over here at six in the morning—honestly, right on the dot—and was a beet-red, stuttering mess. I could smell the cookies he had behind his back," she rolled her eyes. "But he left without giving them to me, mumbling some lame, incoherent excuse."

"Aw," Chelsea said, frowning. "Poor Elliot. He was probably so nervous."

"You think?" Julia grimaced, sitting back up. "I mean, that's the main reason that I'm not really into him anymore. He's too shy. Back in summer I would have thought it was adorable, but now, it's just kind of annoying."

"You shouldn't be so harsh," Chelsea pursed her lips. "I mean, it's not his fault. He probably really likes you, and he's just afraid of rejection."

"But he should still man up enough to actually give me the freaking cookies," Julia rolled her eyes again. "You're lucky. If Vaughn ever wanted to give you something for spring thanksgiving, he would never wuss out like that. He's manly. I think that's one of the few qualities about him that I can appreciate."

"I guess you're right," Chelsea said, leaning against the counter. "Vaughn would never chicken out like that."

**Ooo**

Vaughn flinched as the loud speaker on the boat announced that they were docking. He was back at Sunny Island once again. He glanced down at his bag, swallowing hard. The bag of cookies Riley had insisted on Vaughn bringing was tucked away in one of the side pockets, driving Vaughn crazy.

He picked up the bag gingerly, walking down the pier and onto the beach. He glanced back down at his bag, his face hot. He was about to chicken out.

No, he thought, scowling at the sand. He had to do this. Riley was right. Spring Thanksgiving was the perfect opportunity to get a little hint at how Chelsea thought of him. But maybe actually giving her chocolate cookies was a bit too blatant an expression of _his_ feelings...

"E-Excuse me," a timid voice said, startling Vaughn out of his reverie.

"What?" He asked sharply, looking up. A very pale girl with dark hair and glasses stood before him. She had a dignified air about her. He'd never seen her before.

She flinched at his tone. "Uh, a-are you alright?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, not answering. Who was she to ask?

"Uh," she flushed at his lack of answer, her head drooping. "I-I'm sorry."

Vaughn rolled his eyes. She didn't need to apologize for asking if he was okay. If anyone needed to apologize in this situation, it was him for being mean. Of course, he wasn't about to apologize because he didn't even know this girl. She was spineless. He hated that.

He rolled his eyes and left the beach, almost forgetting about the cookie dilemma—until he walked right up to Mirabelle's shop and the door opened before he touched the knob.

"Oh," Chelsea said, looking up at Vaughn in surprise as she walked out of the shop. "Hey, Vaughn."

He saw her smile and began to panic in his mind. Her face was pink—was she blushing? What did that mean? He felt the overwhelming presence of the cookies in his bag. He swallowed, glancing down at the pocket, making sure they weren't visible. He realized he hadn't said anything and Chelsea was still standing in front of him. His throat was too dry to make a sound when he opened his mouth.

"Are you okay?" She asked him, tilting her head in concern as her smile faded. "You look awful—er, well, that sounded bad. But you know what I mean. You look like you haven't slept in ages. Are you feeling alright?"

He slapped himself mentally, trying to snap out of it. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Chelsea asked, clearly not buying it.

He nodded once, his hand twitching slightly. He had to do this. He _had_ to do this. He _had to do this_.

Just as he was about to take out the bag of cookies, Chelsea blinked, looking over his shoulder. "Oh, Sabrina! Hey!"

Vaughn turned behind him, seeing that girl from the beach walking by, close enough to have heard their conversation. She cautiously walked over, keeping her gaze away from Vaughn's.

"H-hello, Chelsea," Sabrina said quietly. She seemed afraid. Vaughn figured that their last encounter was probably a bit jarring for someone who didn't know him.

"Sabrina, have you met Vaughn?" Chelsea asked, glancing over to the cowboy.

"N-not… really." Sabrina looked up, still avoiding Vaughn's gaze. She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I need to be going—but it was nice to meet you."

Vaughn saw Chelsea narrowing her eyes slightly, analyzing Sabrina's demeanor as she hurried off across the bridge. She glared over at Vaughn. "Were you mean to her?"

He frowned. "I ain't exactly a people person."

"But you can't go around offending people," Chelsea said, grimacing. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothin'," Vaughn shrugged with one shoulder.

"Well, you clearly did something to freak her out," the farmer sighed, giving Vaughn an exasperated look. "What happened?"

"She came up to me on the beach, started stutterin' at me, and I came over here."

"What did she _stutter_ at you?" Chelsea frowned.

"I dunno," Vaughn rolled his eyes. "Somethin' about if I was okay or not."

"So exactly what I just asked you," Chelsea said, raising her eyebrows. "But instead of answering her, you just walked away."

"It ain't her business," he shrugged.

"Well, it's not exactly my business either, but you answered me," Chelsea said, blinking as something appeared to click in her mind. She shifted her rucksack on her back, suddenly seeming preoccupied. "Hey, uh, I have to… uh, feed Daisy. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Wait," Vaughn said, regretting his instinct to stop her as soon as he said it.

She turned back to face him. "What?"

"Uh," he said, blanking. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. He reached into the pocket in his bag and pulled out the bag of cookies, tossing them to her. "Here."

She blinked down at the bag and Vaughn wanted the earth to swallow him up as he waited for the agonizingly long pause to end and for her to _react_. He thought about running into the animal shop, but that would defeat the whole purpose of giving her the damn cookies. He felt his neck go cold with sweat.

She looked up at him, her eyes a mixture of emotions. "Thank you, Vaughn. I…"

"Oh, there you are! Vaughn, can you help me with the chickens? They're especially feisty today." Mirabelle said, walking around the side of the shop.

Vaughn and Chelsea froze for a moment before Vaughn nodded to Mirabelle. He tipped his hat to Chelsea, surprisingly keeping his cool as he followed Mirabelle into the coop.

If only he knew what she was about to say.

**Ooo**

Chelsea watched Vaughn disappear into the chicken coop, the bag of chocolate cookies sitting carefully in her hands. She looked back down at them, wondering if she'd just dreamt that hole scenario up. Vaughn hadn't just—he couldn't have—he wasn't—

"Chelsea," Julia said excitedly, opening the window of the animal shop and leaning out. "Oh my Goddess—he really did it!"

Chelsea blinked. She hadn't imagined it. She felt her lips tug up into a smile. "He did, didn't he?"

"Does this mean—?"

Chelsea shook her head, looking at Julia. "I don't know what it means."

"Well, he gave you _cookies_, Chels," she said, her voice lowering to an excited whisper. "I'm sure he knows what that _implies_."

"I don't know if he cares what it implies," Chelsea said, her eyes falling back down on the cookies. Her heart fluttered. What if it did mean that Vaughn really did feel for her? She shook her head again. "It's probably some sort of prank or something. I mean, think about it: is Vaughn the kind of guy that would give someone like me cookies on Spring Thanksgiving?"

"Apparently," Julia said, smiling cheekily. "You should go with your gut. I can distract my mom and let you two have some alone time in the coop."

Chelsea's eyes widened. "No—I don't think—"

"Aw, c'mon," Julia whined. "Just go ask him out or something. Or, y'know, kiss him."

Chelsea shushed her, her face heating up. "I don't know about this—it seems a little fishy to me. I mean, Vaughn doesn't seem like he would do this on his own. What if he was put up to it or something? I don't want to end up admitting something to him and getting rejected over something he thought was a joke."

"Sure, Vaughn doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd do anything for this holiday," Julia said. "But does he seem like the kind of guy who'd manipulate a girl because he was _put up to it_?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Forget it," Julia sighed. "Tomorrow's another day. Just in case he was being serious, though, the worst thing you could do is avoid him. Make sure you talk to him tomorrow, even if you have to go out of your way. If you don't, he'll think that you didn't like it and he probably won't take it too well."

"But I do like it," Chelsea frowned. "I love it. I just…"

"_I_ understand," Julia said, offering a reassuring smile. "Just make sure _he_ does, too."

* * *

**I'm quite impressed with Vaughn's guts. If only he'd known what Chelsea really thought about the cookies before he had to work.**

**Thanks for all your reviews! I'm so sorry about the lack of review replies last chapter - FF was giving me 404 errors for all the reply links and they weren't showing up on the website for me. Hopefully it's fixed now!**

**Here's to the crazy plot coming up!**


	44. Awkwardness Not Intended

**Ahh, it feels good to be on-schedule. According to my outline, this chapter was supposed to be a filler - but that totally didn't happen. Here's the aftermath of the Spring Thanksgiving incident and the beginning of my favorite arc of the story. Read on!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1794  
_

_Date Updated: 12-11-11_

_Current Review Count: 539_

* * *

Chelsea walked out of her house and onto her farm, wiping at her eyes as the crisp morning air woke her up. She stretched out her back and trudged her way through weeds and fallen branches over to her little plot of crops.

Taking out her watering can, she started to hum to herself, remembering the cookies carefully kept in her rucksack. She couldn't help but smile when she remembered what had happened the previous day. Vaughn had such a red face! It was adorable how embarrassed he was. But was he being serious?

Chelsea frowned, putting her watering can away and heading towards the barn. Julia had a point—Vaughn had to know what giving cookies implied. But it was just so hard to believe he'd willingly participate in a holiday that even Chelsea had thought was a little superficial. If Chelsea knew anything about Vaughn—and she like to think she knew him rather well, considering the circumstances—it was that he was not one to wear his feelings on his shoulder.

Sighing, Chelsea walked up to Daisy. "Hey, girl."

Daisy looked up at the farmer, letting out a low moo.

Smiling slightly, Chelsea began to brush the cow in front of her. Daisy was a good friend. She listened whenever Chelsea needed an unbiased ear. "What do you think, girl? Was Vaughn serious?"

Daisy was silent under the brush, unsurprisingly opting not to answer. Chelsea pursed her lips. Could Vaughn actually see her as more than a friend? They had been talking a lot, and she knew that Vaughn trusted her—which was a major thing for him, she thought—but were they anything more than just good friends? What about yesterday, when Vaughn had so blatantly showed the difference in his regard for Sabrina and Chelsea? Sabrina had asked him the exact same thing that she had, worrying over the cowboy—but instead of rudely shunning Chelsea like he had to Sabrina, he'd answered her with no hesitation. It shouldn't have struck Chelsea so strongly—after all, Vaughn was clearly not very adept in talking, especially to strangers—but it _had_.

But just because Vaughn talked to her so easily didn't mean that he thought of her romantically. That was why the cookies threw a confusing wrench in the situation.

Chelsea was sure about one thing, though—she had to make sure she talked to Vaughn today, like Julia had suggested. If Vaughn was serious, the worst thing she could do was not talk to him.

**Ooo**

Vaughn paced nervously inside the chicken coop at Mirabelle's. He had finished all of his work and it was barely after noon. He'd been working especially slowly, too, just so he would waste more time. Sighing, he leaned against the wall, trying to compose himself and regain his usual stoic demeanor. This whole giving-Chelsea-cookies thing wasn't working out very well.

He didn't want to avoid her, but he also didn't really want to talk to her. It seemed like the only thing that Chelsea was likely to do was reject him. Why had he listened to Riley and given her those damned cookies? He knew it was a bad idea. He'd always hated Spring Thanksgiving anyways. It was a superficial holiday. He didn't need to give chocolate to someone to prove his affections.

He pushed off the wall and left the coop, heading back to the shop. Hopefully Mirabelle would have something else for him to do. He didn't want to have to decide whether or not he should go talk to that damn farmer—if he was working, he would have an excuse not to talk to her. If he wasn't working, he had to either avoid her or not avoid her, and he wasn't sure which seemed like the better option.

Goddess, he thought, grimacing. This is really making my life hell.

"Oh, Vaughn," Julia said, perking up from behind the counter as Vaughn walked in. "Chelsea was here a little bit ago."

"What'd she want?" Vaughn grunted, doing a very good job of seeming uninterested.

"I don't know," Julia said, shrugging. "She bought some fodder."

"So?" Vaughn frowned. "Was she lookin' for me or somethin'?"

"She didn't _say_ she was, but—"

"Then I don't see why it's important for me t'know," Vaughn mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Is there anythin' else for me to do?"

"I don't think so," Julia said, slumping resignedly. "You're off for the rest of the day."

Vaughn nodded and left, hesitating as the door closed behind him. Where should he go? Chelsea could be anywhere. He sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he felt a headache come on. If Chelsea had been at Mirabelle's earlier and hadn't asked about him, it seemed like a safe bet that she wasn't particularly excited about talking to him. Which probably meant she was awkwardly trying to figure out how to reject him.

He frowned, setting off towards the forest. It was unlikely she'd be there with all the chores she had to do on her farm. If he was lucky, he could avoid her for the rest of the day and be on a boat by nightfall, postponing the inevitable rejection for another week.

He slumped against a tree, studying his boots. This sucked.

**Ooo**

"Julia," Chelsea said, walking into the animal shop. "Have you seen Vaughn? It's almost dark out and I haven't been able to find him all day."

"You haven't?" Julia said, surprised. She closed her magazine and leaned across the counter. "He was here a while ago. I tried to tell him that you were here earlier, but he didn't get it."

"Didn't get what?" Chelsea asked, confused.

"That I was implying that you were looking for him," she rolled her eyes. "He asked if you asked for him, and since you technically didn't, he figured you weren't looking for him."

"Great, Chelsea sighed. "He probably thinks _I'm_ avoiding _him_, then."

"Well, he has to be at the dock at some point, doesn't he?" Julia said, raising her eyebrows. "If you ust go down there and wait for a bit, I'm sure you'll find him before he leaves."

"You're right," Chelsea said, nodding. She opened the door, but hesitated. "Hey, Julia?"

"What?" The blonde asked, tilting her head in concern.

Chelsea pursed her lips. "Do you really think he meant it when he gave me the cookies?"

Julia rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. Don't worry about it—go tell him you liked them before it's too late!"

"Okay," Chelsea nodded, stepping into the cool evening.

"And give him a smooch while you're at it!" Julia called as the door closed.

Chelsea grimaced as her face heated up but headed towards the beach anyway. Julia had to be right. Even if the whole thing was a little fishy to Chelsea, Vaughn wasn't the kind to take feelings lightly. He had to be serious about it. But why so suddenly? And why choose Spring Thanksgiving to tell her something like this? It just didn't seem very… _Vaughn_. It was too predictable. There was something wrong here.

She made it to the dark beach, noticing the boat close on the horizon. It was still coming in. Her heart sank in relief—she hadn't missed him. Not yet, at least.

She sat down on the sand, watching the cloudy sky as she tried to think of what she was going to say to that cowboy when he got there. Should she just outright say that she liked the cookies—that she liked _him_? Or was that too blatant? If she did that and he didn't actually mean it the way it seemed, she was setting herself up for some serious humiliation. She could try assuming it was a joke and laughing about it. That seemed like it could work. But if he was being completely serious, he'd probably be insulted that she took it so lightly—and also think she was rejecting him, which would be really bad.

She heaved a deep sigh, slumping forward. This was so confusing and stressful. It didn't help the situation that her stomach was all tied up in knots. What if he was being serious? Would she tell him about her crush on him? Or would she end up screwing it up and unintentionally playing hard-to-get? She almost wished that he wasn't being serious so that she wouldn't have to awkwardly tell him how she felt.

She froze, hearing hesitant footsteps in the sand behind her. They stopped nearby.

She stood up awkwardly, dusting sand off of her legs. She turned to the cowboy beside her, unable to see his face through his hat. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied, glancing at the ocean and the boat that was now preparing to dock.

"So," Chelsea started, rocking back and forth. She cringed at how thick the air was. "Uh. How are you?"

She could tell Vaughn was rolling his eyes, but he didn't answer.

"Uh, yeah," Chelsea said, rubbing her shoulder awkwardly. Now or never. "About those cookies…"

Vaughn visibly tensed. "Yeah?"

"Were you serious?" Chelsea asked, her tone coming out in a way that almost sounded amused—which was not at all her intention.

"Serious?" Vaughn repeated, confused. She cringed—he seemed hurt. "Why?"

"Well, just because, uh," she stuttered, trying to show that she _wanted_ him to be serious without actually _showing_ that she wanted him to be serious, just in case he wasn't _actually_ serious. It was difficult to achieve and she was pretty sure she failed. "You know, there are a lot of, uh, implications with giving someone chocolate cookies on Spring Thanksgiving, and I—well, I don't—I'm not sure—"

"You think I was kiddin'," Vaughn said, his tone unreadable and his face hidden beneath his hat.

"Well, no—or, uh, I don't know," Chelsea said, sighing. "It just doesn't seem like something you'd do, that's all."

Vaughn was silent for several moments before speaking. "So you think I was kiddin'."

Chelsea swallowed. She'd offended him—that was obvious in his forced tone. This was not her intention at all. Before she could come up with something to say, the horn on the boat sounded, signaling its eminent departure. Vaughn shifted the bag in his hands, starting to walk away. Chelsea panicked as he started down the dock.

"Wait," she called after him. To her surprise, he didn't stop walking. She felt her heart drop. "Vaughn!"

The horn sounded off again, the boat's motor starting up. She couldn't see him on the deck as the vessel headed out on the sea.

"I liked them," Chelsea said, but there was no way he could hear her.

She blinked back a tear. She'd really messed this one up.

* * *

**Well, shucks. That didn't work out the way we all hoped it would.**

**So, this begins my favorite arc of the story. I call it my favorite arc because it is the plot bunny that I had two years ago, around this time of the year, that made me want to write a VaughnxChelsea longfic. Honestly. I started this story just so I could write the events that take place in the next few (several?) chapters. I can't believe it took this long to get to it. I can't believe I'm actually going to get to write it, after all these years! xD**

**Anywho, I start finals on Friday and start Christmas break on Tuesday the 20th, so I'll get a chapter out next weekend and then the updating will likely be a bit more frequent over break. In the mean time, I hope you liked this chapter! Review and tell me how awkward Vaughn and Chelsea are and how poorly they both handled this. Who else wants to blame Riley for making Vaughn give her the cookies in the first place? xP**


	45. Falling Apart

**Here's the next chapter, y'all. So, so much happens here. Enjoy?**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 2178  
_

_Date Updated: 12-18-11_

_Current Review Count: 556_

* * *

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_Hey. It feels like it's been ages since I wrote to you guys. I'm sorry. Spring has been okay, and I'm expecting my crops to be ready for harvesting in the next few days. They've been taking longer than usual, but I've been taking care to water them every day like I'm supposed to. Hopefully I'll make enough off them to get a lot of seeds for the summer and then the farm can really kick off._

_Speaking of the farm kicking off, Daisy is finally giving milk! It took a lot longer than I thought it would, but she did it. I gave some to Vaughn and he said it was good, so it must be—if there was one person to trust when it comes to animals, it's Vaughn._

_Oh, also, Julia and I made up. The whole thing was stupid. I was just getting homesick and emotional, haha! But it's all good now. I miss you guys, but I just know that the farm is going to start being profitable soon. Until then, I won't have enough to come visit. But I will soon, don't worry! Everything's fine._

_Anyway, I just thought I should write you guys and let you know everything's fine. I love you and I'll see you soon,_

_XOXOXO_

_Chelsea_

**Ooo**

"Well, she seems to be alright," Claire said, giving the letter back to her husband.

Gray sighed, setting it on the table near them. "She's alright, sure. But we still don't know where she is."

"I want to see her just as much as you do," Claire frowned slightly. "But without a return address, there's really not much we can do."

They fell silent for several moments, contemplating the situation.

Claire took a shaky breath, looking up. "Why won't she tell us where she is?"

Gray didn't answer. He put one arm around Claire, attempting to comfort her.

The farmer and the blacksmith watched the table morosely, wishing they could just have their daughter back.

Suddenly, a thought struck Claire. "Did she say that her cow just started giving milk?"

Gray furrowed his brow in confusion, but nodded anyway. "Yeah, she did. Why?"

"Hasn't it been over two seasons since she got her?" Claire asked, frowning. "That would mean…"

"What?" Gray asked, getting frustrated in his confusion. "What is it?"

"Gray," Claire said, frowning. "I think her cow—well, I don't know, but I heard about this disease in cows. It's rare, and Chelsea's cow is probably fine, but—"

"What disease?"

Claire shook her head. "It's something that a cow is born with. There's no way to prevent it and no way to stop it from happening, but it's a mutation in the cow that basically makes the cow start to die after it begins to give milk. I don't know how it works. It's really unlikely that Chelsea's cow has it, too. The late start with giving milk is the only symptom I know if in her cow, but…"

"It's probably nothing," Gray said. "The odds are against it. It's just a coincidence."

"I hope so," Claire said, watching the wall. "If anything happened to that cow, Chelsea would be devastated."

**Ooo**

Chelsea walked into Mirabelle's shop, sighing. She sat down at one of the stools at the counter, slumping forward. Julia smiled sympathetically at her from the other side.

"How're you today, Chels?" Julia asked, her tone both understanding and concerned. She had been told what happened with Vaughn on Thursday night.

"Fine, fine," Chelsea said, sighing again. "I guess."

"I have some news," Julia said, pursing her lips. "And I'm not sure if it's good or bad."

"Well, what is it?" Chelsea asked, sitting up.

"Vaughn's not coming in this week," Julia said, watching the farmer apprehensively.

Chelsea slumped again, her heart dropping. This was just perfect. With the week she'd just had plus this, she felt like she could be crying. He hated her. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Why?"

"He said there were storms and that his boat wasn't going out," Julia explained, giving a little shrug. "He also apologized for the short notice. I mean, it _is_ Wednesday morning…"

Chelsea shook her head. If she was a little glum before, she was downright depressed now.

"And there's something else," Julia said, her face scrunching up apologetically.

Chelsea looked at her. "Huh?"

"I'm going with Ma out to the city for a few days," Julia said, "I'm sorry."

"When are you leaving?" Chelsea asked, frowning. Now her only means of venting and solace was going away.

"Today," Julia cringed at Chelsea's disbelieving expression. "Soon, actually. It's really short notice."

"Oh," Chelsea said. She couldn't think of anything else to say. She was having a hard time not just shutting down. This was such a bad week. She had really underestimated the amount of emotional stress this Vaughn incident was going to cause. She was losing sleep over it. She just knew that he hated her now and it was killing her. And now Julia, the only one who offered any sort of comfort, was going away.

"I'll be back in a few days," the blonde said, patting Chelsea's arm. "But right now I've got to finish packing. The boat leaves at noon."

"Alright," Chelsea nodded, standing up. "I should go take care of my crops, then. And check on Daisy. Again."

"I'm sorry," Julia said once more, and Chelsea could tell that she really meant it. "Really. But I know you'll be fine."

"Yeah," Chelsea said, sighing. She walked over to the door, adjusting her rucksack on her back. "Have fun—I'll see you Saturday."

As the door closed behind her, Chelsea frowned at the dirty ground beneath her boots. She might as well go and make sure her crops were doing alright. As she walked up the path to her farm, she noticed the grayish clouds forming overhead. It looks like it might start raining. How fitting, she thought with a sigh.

As she made it up to her farm, she headed straight over to her plots of crops, expecting to see ready-to-pick vegetables. After all, it had been weeks now without a harvest. So when she saw drooping, wilted stalks where just yesterday there had been promising vegetable plants, she didn't believe her eyes.

After a few moments, she knelt down next to one of the dead plants. She gingerly tried to lift one of the tiny, mushy cucumbers on the vine, but it fell right off in her hand. She looked over at the turnips, all wilted and half-eaten by insects. The potatoes were not much better. She tried pulling one up, but there was no way that the thing that came out of the ground would be worth a thing if she tried to ship it.

She fell onto the dirt, gaping at her failed harvest. Her eyes started welling up. She tried to suppress the tears, but a few still managed to escape and fall onto the ground below her. She took a deep, shaky breath and stood up. Nothing was going right. This whole day was a waste. It just downright sucked. Maybe she just needed to sleep it off. A nap seemed like the only thing to do to get her mind off of this. Plus, she was starting to feel all the lost sleep piling up on her.

She got inside, pulled off her boots and bandana, and flung herself onto her bed, trying to block out life.

**Ooo**

When Chelsea woke up, it was dark outside. She looked at her clock. It was almost nine o'clock. She rolled over and stared up at her dark ceiling. She was broke. Well, almost broke. She had just a few hundred gold left, which was hardly enough for any seeds at all for the rest of the season. She had spent most of her money on the seeds that had just failed. Julia was off the island and so Chelsea had no one to go to for help. Vaughn had to hate her. Even if he didn't, he wasn't on the island this week, anyway, so it made no difference.

Chelsea was alone this time. She was completely and utterly alone. Her family was gone, her friends were gone, and she had nothing left. She sat up, choking back her tears. She hated this. She was just wallowing in self-pity. But what else was there to do? She sighed, standing up. Nothing. There was nothing else to do.

She smiled slightly, remembering her faithful cow in the barn. She had Daisy. She'd always had Daisy to help her through these times. Daisy would listen to her.

Chelsea bent down and pulled her boots on and situated her bandana on top of her head. She grabbed her rucksack and opened the door, surprised at the chill that blasted her from the outside. She pulled Vaughn's coat on, trying not to think about him and how much she'd messed that whole thing up. After everything that they'd been through…

She shook her head, walking out into the night. It was no use thinking about it now. Nothing could be done. Even though she knew that, her mind kept bringing it up.

She had lost Vaughn's friendship forever and she knew it.

Chelsea pushed the door to the barn open, walking into the well-lit room. She saw Daisy lying against the back wall of the barn, sleeping peacefully. As she was walking over to the brown cow, Chelsea's gaze landed on her feed trough and the fodder that was still inside it.

"Daisy," Chelsea said, frowning slightly. "Why didn't you eat your food today?"

Daisy didn't answer. Chelsea walked over, not surprised—after all, Daisy seemed to be awfully tired. For a moment, Chelsea's mind panicked—what if Daisy was coming down with something?

But that panic washed away completely when Chelsea made it over to her cow on the far side of the barn. In fact, everything in Chelsea's mind seemed to wash away completely—except for the fact that Daisy seemed so still.

Unnaturally still.

"Daisy?" Chelsea said, her voice quiet. She didn't want to breathe. The barn was too quiet, too still. Everything was too still. Chelsea felt the deafening silence push against her when Daisy still did not answer.

Unable to breathe, Chelsea knelt down, her hands shaking. She reached out slowly and touched Daisy's head. It was cold.

Chelsea's heart stopped and her stomach lurched.

Daisy was dead.

And just like that, Chelsea's world fell apart.

She couldn't think straight. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening—it was all just a dream. She hadn't actually woken up—it was just a nightmare. None of it was real. From her family to Vaughn to Julia to the failed harvest to this—it couldn't be happening.

Standing up and swaying on her spot, Chelsea couldn't take her eyes off of the body of her only family on the island. She didn't realize it, but she was sobbing. Hot tears soaked her face. She hiccupped and coughed and shook and swayed. Nothing made sense anymore. She staggered over to the wall, leaning against it, her eyes squeezed shut.

Why? Why was she doing this? What was the point of this all? She wished that she hadn't run away from home. She wished that she could be at home, eating lunch with her parents, sleeping in her own bed. She missed them. She missed her old life. She hated living in poverty and going hungry and cold. She hated not having anyone there for her.

She wanted to go home.

With her jaw clenched, Chelsea pushed off the wall and made her way to the door. The sky had decided to open up and pour out rain, washing away all of Chelsea's uprooted crops. She stepped into the downpour, the icy water soaking her bandana and bouncing off Vaughn's coat. She inhaled sharply and started running.

She didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered. None of it was worth it anymore.

She made her way through the sleeping town, stumbling several times but never letting herself fall. She felt her feet hit the sand and she knew she was on the beach. She blinked through the tears and the rain and saw a boat at the dock, preparing to set off on the last passage of the night.

She flew down the dock and one of the sailors greeted her.

"Ticket?" He asked, having to yell above the waves and the rain.

"How much for a passage to Mineral Town?" Chelsea replied, her voice tired.

"It's two hundred, and you'll have to switch over to another boat at the city—but that's no extra charge."

"Here," Chelsea said, rifling through her rucksack and giving him the coins.

He stared at them for a moment before ushering her onto the ship just as the horn blared and the engine started up.

Chelsea stood on the deck, drenched and empty. She watched as Sunny Island disappeared through the rain.

* * *

**Dx**

***By the way, as far as I know, there is no such disease for cows. But since this is a fictional game and a fictional story, I figured it would be alright to include a fictional disease.**


	46. Rain

**A day or to late, I know... but I didn't want to ruin your Christmas with this angst. I made this one extra-long as a gift to you. Merry Christmas... :P**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 2558  
_

_Date Updated: 12-26-11_

_Current Review Count: 569_

_**Dunno if I have to, but... uh... warning for, uh, T-rated... stuff. If you're not technically a "T" yet, just... read at your own risk? I refuse to spoil the plot for the sake of a warning! D:**  
_

* * *

"Miss, miss…"

Chelsea shot upright with a start, her eyes fluttering open. She looked over at the shipmate next to her. She'd fallen asleep on the covered portion of the deck. "What happened?"

"We're docking in the city," he said, his clothes thoroughly soaked. "You're going to have to get off."

Chelsea nodded, standing up. Her legs felt tired and she wobbled unsteadily before she regained her balance with the aid of some nearby railing. The waves were battering the sides of the boat and the rain hadn't let up. She shivered slightly in Vaughn's coat, still wet from a combination of rain and ocean water. Slowly, she made her way onto the dock.

It was still dark out and the city was nearly completely deserted—probably on account of the late hour and the inclement weather. With a sigh, Chelsea shifted her soggy rucksack to her other arm and squinted at the man running the dock.

"Excuse me," she said, her raspy voice straining to be heard above the thrashing waves and pounding rain.

The man slid the small window of his little office open, looking at her like she was crazy. "What?"

"I need to transfer boats—I'm heading to Mineral Town," she explained, her body trembling from cold and stress.

The man pulled up a clipboard and flipped through some papers before looking up at her. "Sorry, miss. That passage's been delayed until the storm clears up—probably tomorrow morning, maybe afternoon."

"Tomorrow?" Chelsea repeated, her stomach tightening uncomfortably. "But…"

"Sorry," the man shrugged, giving her a pitying glance. "Unless you want to end up shipwrecked, you aren't going anywhere tonight."

"Being shipwrecked isn't that bad," Chelsea muttered as she turned, earning a confused glance from the man.

She vacantly walked away from the dock, stopping before she'd made it too far. She glanced around her, taking in the city. There wasn't much to see through the thick veil of gray rainfall and the looming wall of darkness. The sky was a swirling pool of black and grays, and to Chelsea, it seemed like it was ready to come crashing down to the ground.

None of the street names meant anything to her. She didn't know where she was. It couldn't have been much past two in the morning, which was just late enough for no one to be out yet just early enough for Chelsea to have to find some place to stay. She couldn't just wait in the dark, getting soaked by the pouring rain for four hours until sunrise—could she?

She bit down on the insides of her cheeks. That seemed like her only option.

She was very literally broke. This was no hyperbolic use of the term. She had_ no money_. She spent every last coin she had on the boat ticket, unaware that something like this could happen. She couldn't stay in any sort of inn. She couldn't buy food. She couldn't do anything but stand there in the rain and feel the icy water numb her skin, thoroughly freezing her from the outside in.

Maybe, if she was lucky, the rain could even numb her heart. That way she wouldn't have to feel this horrible, tight feeling in her chest.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Chelsea looked up to the sky, the rain hitting her face and mingling with her tears. Her lips trembled. Her whole body trembled. She shakily backed into the brick wall of the building beside her, sinking down to the ground. She pulled her knees into her chest, crying quietly to herself.

She felt so alone.

The foreboding expanse of the city frightened her. Thousands of people were here, all around her—most of them were probably asleep—but she didn't know any of them. She didn't know which places were safe and which places weren't. She heard stories of the city many times from her parents. They'd described it as an exciting, busy place—but also one that can be far more dangerous than anything Chelsea had known.

And now here she was, alone in the darkness of this treacherous place, feeling and looking more vulnerable than she would have cared to.

She was living a nightmare. There was virtually no aspect of her life at that moment that seemed particularly appealing to Chelsea. She missed her family. Her crops were dead. She had no money. She had managed to wreck the friendship that had taken seasons to build by accidently being a total idiot to Vaughn. Julia was gone right when she needed her most. Her cow—her _baby_, her _best friend_—was dead. _Dead_.

Daisy was dead.

She hiccupped, trembling more violently against the wall.

And to top it all off, she was now lost in the most intimidating place she'd ever been in. If it wasn't for Vaughn, this place would've already killed Chelsea. She remembered the only experience she'd had in the city, nearly three seasons ago. She'd almost died. Twice. Chelsea shuddered.

She was terrified.

But aside from the terror and the dull, throbbing anguish in her chest, Chelsea felt surprisingly empty. It was like she had managed to cry out some of the consciousness of her pain. Like the rain had actually numbed her.

She felt the hair on the back of her neck crawl and she heard a faint sound of footsteps on the pavement in the distance. The sound mixed with the vigorous pitter-patter of the storm, making Chelsea wonder if she'd heard it at all. A stolid glance to the side confirmed her suspicions as she made out the vague outline of a person walking toward her. It was a man—she could tell. He wasn't very tall, but he gave off a stalwart silhouette nonetheless.

Chelsea stood slowly, no longer feeling the rain that fell in torrents around her. Was it possible to drown on land?

Swallowing, she started walking. She walked even though she couldn't feel her legs. It was like she was swimming through an icy river of gelatin—no matter how quickly she thought she was moving, the man behind her seemed to move that much faster.

The distance between them was steadily closing.

Vacant as she may have been moments before, Chelsea was fluttery with panic and fear now. She'd heard what strangers do to young, susceptible women in the city…

His footsteps were closer. She turned a corner sharply, hoping maybe he was actually just going somewhere to run a late-night errand and she was just being paranoid.

Her hope shattered when he turned with her, the gap ever-shortening.

Turn after turn, the man kept following her. She could practically feel him breathing down her neck. Her steps increased in tempo steadily, and eventually she broke out into a run. She didn't want to looked behind her, knowing that he was probably faster that her jelly-legs were and therefore right behind her.

She looked back anyway.

A scream caught in her throat in surprise—he _was_ behind her. _Right_ behind her.

He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking it towards him. She wriggled furiously, sliding easily out of Vaughn's oversized coat and out of the stranger's unwelcome grasp.

Panicked, Chelsea darted the first way she saw—down a narrow, puddle-ridden alleyway. Not her smartest of moves.

She barely made it halfway down the short street before she felt rough, dirty hands grip her tender arm tightly. She began to scream, but the man brought his other thick hand to cover her mouth.

Her eyes widened in alarm as he towered over her, his face shrouded by the rain and the dark. She heard him chuckle, a hoarse, scratchy sound that turned to a wet cough. She smelled alcohol and tobacco on his clothes, which were unfortunately close to her.

"Keep quiet," he rasped, his face coming within inches of hers.

She watched him, her eyes filled with terror. She felt frozen. This couldn't be happening—not on top of everything else that had gone wrong. It made no sense. She didn't deserve this—did she? This was all a nightmare. An unbelievable nightmare with all of the worst thing that could ever happen in it.

A thought hit her just then, stunning her. She was never going to see her parents again.

The man tore at Chelsea's soaked shirts, effectively ripping the shoulder seam out, leaving Chelsea's bluish, pale flesh exposed form her collar bone to her wrist. She inhaled sharply, trying to scream again. She thrashed her limbs about, kicking and flailing and clawing at anything she could manage.

She wasn't going down without a fight.

"Damn it," the man growled after she managed to scratch his arm. He kept his hold on her wrist, his fingers digging into her soft skin, probably drawing some blood. He glowered at her, slurring something unintelligible. He brought his hand back and sent a hard blow across her cheek, knocking her to the ground.

She whimpered, her face stinging. She tried to push herself out of the mud and scrambled away, but she was too slow—his hands pinned her down.

In one last attempt, she took a deep breath and let out the loudest scream her lungs could muster—which, unfortunately for her, was not very loud.

**Ooo**

Vaughn stared up at his black ceiling, listening to the rain hit his apartment window. This was the sixth night in a row that he'd managed to _not_ fall asleep.

Heaving a sigh, he sat up, cracking his neck. This was useless.

He hated admitting it, but he was actually starting to _miss_ that damn farmer.

It was useless to feel that way. She would never forgive him for spurning her like that. He may be dense, but he knew when he'd made a mistake. He didn't mean to react so badly to her response to the cookies. He was just naturally guarded—she knew that. But he didn't realize that his guard would make him act like a fool.

Looking back on those final moments on the island, Vaughn realized that Chelsea probably _didn't_ think he was joking about the cookies. Even if she _did_ think that, there was good reason—even Vaughn could tell that giving cookies on Spring Thanksgiving was not something he'd usually do. In fact, he was still wondering what possessed him to do it in the first place.

Oh, right, Vaughn thought. Riley.

And after he'd realized what a petty ass he'd been, he realized that there was nothing he could do about it. Chelsea was probably mad at him. He'd be mad if he were in her position. In the end, though, it didn't even matter—all the passages out of the city's port were postponed due to inclement weather, so he wouldn't be seeing Chelsea until the following week anyways.

He frowned up at the ceiling again. That didn't stop the guilt and the sadness pulling at his gut.

With another sigh, Vaughn stood up, running his hand through his silver hair. He pulled on his boots and a raincoat. After setting his hat on his head, he walked across the room to the door of his apartment. Perhaps an invigorating walk through the freezing rain would do him good. What it could possibly do, Vaughn had no idea.

But it was better than just lying in bed and feeling sorry for himself.

Vaughn started down the street, the rain immediately waking him up with a jolt from its coldness. It was falling in sheets. Vaughn was completely soaked after just a few seconds on the sidewalk.

He walked through the rain, taking a deep, cool, cleansing breath. This part of the city smelled strongly of ocean at its most pungent—a smell that is hard to appreciate.

Vaughn tried not to think of anything as he walked down the streets. Naturally, this didn't work. His mind raced right back to what he was hoping to clear his head of. He thought of her smiling at him and how warm it made him feel. It was like she was the epitome of happiness and optimism—his exact opposite. But the more time he spent with her, the more he found himself liking her and the more he found himself liking a lot of things that he used to hate.

Riley was right yet again—that girl was making him nicer.

And the funny thing was that he didn't mind it.

Vaughn's gaze landed on something slumped up in the middle of the sidewalk up ahead of him. He cautiously walked up to it, unable to make out its identity in through the rain and the darkness. As he got closer, he found that it was a leather coat—a worn one. A very familiarly worn one.

Hesitantly, he picked it up. It was still warm, like it had just been cast off. It smelled like saltwater, dirt, and honey. It smelled like Chelsea.

As Vaughn bemusedly studied the article in his hands, a sudden shriek tore through the roar of the storm. His body tensed and his head whipped in the direction of the scream. He'd heard that scream before. He knew that voice.

He squinted down the alley, barely making out two figures about halfway down the narrow road. He watched as the larger of the two—a man, it seemed, and a very drunk one at that—raised his hand up and struck the other, sending it to the ground.

Vaughn's mouth ran dry as another scream—this one weaker than the first—pierced his ears. He ran down the muddy path, adrenaline and anger the only things he felt. Adrenaline, anger, and confusion. And a little bit of fear, too.

"You _bastard_," Vaughn growled, yanking the man off the ground. He sent a strong punch right to the jaw. The man staggered back, regaining his balance. Vaughn clenched his fist, scowling in a way that he'd sure he'd never scowled before. The man spent all of two seconds assessing the situation—and the cowboy's murderous glare—before pathetically fleeing from the alley.

Vaughn brought his attention down to the quivering form on the wet, muddy ground. His eyes met hers.

It _was_ her.

He reached out a hand and pulled her up, his hands secured on her shoulders to steady her. His gaze was pulled to her red, swollen cheek, then to her torn shirt and muddied skin. It landed on her gaze, which was strikingly desolate—_empty_. He opened his mouth, so many things swirling around his head that he wasn't sure what he should say first. What happened? Why was she there? What was she _thinking_? …Was she okay?

Before he could say anything, though, her lips trembled and she shuddered, slumping forward in fatigue. Her shoulders shook and she _cried_. She cried loudly, and freely, and without any guard. She leaned into him, crying into his already-soaked shirt. Her hands fisted the stretched fabric, her knuckles turning white.

Hesitantly, Vaughn brought his arms around Chelsea's small frame, holding her against him where she already stood. She responded only by hiccupping and burying her face deeper into his shirt.

Vaughn watched her, utterly baffled. _Something_ had happened—something bad. _Really_ bad. It had to be pretty damn horrible to make Chelsea, the epitome of happiness, like _this_.

* * *

**Not gonna lie, it's really late and I don't actually know what was written in those last several paragraphs. I hope it was legible. And not grossly... random.**

**This chapter contained rock-bottom for Chelsea. This means that it is all uphill from here, so no need to worry about anything else happening to ruin Chelsea's life.**

**...All this time without a klutz-attack for Chelsea... all the bad luck must've been stored up, huh?**

**Anywho, on a lighter note, anyone else notice Vaughn's first hug? :P**

**Next chapter should be interesting ;) ...that wasn't supposed to be a winky face, but you know what, I'm going to leave it.**

**Thanks for the reviews, y'all! I'll try to get some more writing in super-soon.**


	47. Perfect Timing

**Happy New Year! :D**

**Ahhh, the drama. Me gusta. A bit short, but it's filled with... stuff. Enjoy!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1468  
_

_Date Updated: 1-2-12_

_Current Review Count: 588_

* * *

Vaughn led Chelsea up the dark stairs of his apartment building. His hands were placed gingerly on her shoulders because he wasn't sure that she would stay upright if he didn't help her along. She had stopped crying—or, at least, stopped crying _loudly_—and had fallen eerily silent.

Vaughn's mind was still reeling with questions. He wasn't sure of anything at this point. He couldn't even think up a hypothetical situation that would warrant his finding Chelsea like _that_.

He felt his face twitch as he played through the events again in his mind. He wanted to kill that drunken son of a bitch that had his hands all over Chelsea.

Exhaling, Vaughn stopped the two of them in front of his apartment. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, reaching in and flicking on the lights. They shuffled in, Vaughn shedding his soaked coat and getting a few dusty spare towels from a closet that was never opened. He handed one to Chelsea.

She took it, not moving from her place near the door. Her whole body seemed to sag with a sad mixture of the weight of her waterlogged clothes and the stress of her situation.

Vaughn wondered again what that situation might actually _be_.

**Ooo**

Chelsea splashed water on her face and watched the mud swirl down the sink basin of Vaughn's small bathroom. His apartment was not exactly what Chelsea had expected. The surfaces were all dusty and the air was too still. It wasn't lived in.

Of course, he was only there two days out of the week.

Sighing, Chelsea met her own gaze in the dull mirror hanging on the wall. She cringed at how red her cheek was, and how stringy her hair was, and how absolutely _broken_ she looked. She hated this. She hated always having to be saved.

A small part of her almost wished that Vaughn hadn't found her. She hated to think of how much trouble she was.

But a much larger part of her was having trouble figuring out a way to properly thank her cowboy savior. He'd really saved her this time.

She brought her gaze off of her face and down to the large black T-shirt that hung on her frame. Vaughn had given it to her, mumbling something about catching a cold if she stayed in her wet clothes. She assumed that the dark cotton shorts he'd given her were his boxers, and after she made that assumption, she tried not to think about it but put them on anyway.

Her face pink, Chelsea opened the door and left the bathroom. Vaughn was leaning against the side of his couch, wearing a dry T-shirt and his usual jeans, also dry. His hair was wet and stuck to his head and his hat was nowhere to be seen. His purple gaze pierced her.

"Well?" He asked gruffly. He hesitated slightly as he surveyed her appearance. With a sigh, he walked over to the kitchenette and started putting ice cubes into a plastic bag.

Chelsea frowned down at it when he handed it to her. She gave him a questioning look. "What…?"

He nodded to her swollen cheek. "It'll bring down the swelling."

She nodded, bringing the bag up to her tender wound. She winced slightly as the ice bit her skin.

The room was filled with a thick silence, the only sound the light rain against the window.

"So," Vaughn started, leaning against the wall. "Are you gonna tell me what you're doin' here?"

Chelsea pursed her lips, blinking back the tears that suddenly threatened to spill. Her whole body burned with shame. She felt like such a loser for just giving up and running away again—especially since she couldn't even do _that_ without failing miserably. She didn't want to tell that to Vaughn. After the bad terms they'd left off on, she was sure that this foolish demonstration would lose her all of his respect.

Vaughn's gaze never left her face, even when she looked down to the floor. She felt like he was reading everything that had happened in the last week. Like he was trying to analyze her.

Chelsea bit down on the insides of her cheeks. It was no use lying. Lying never made a situation better. She took a deep, shaky breath, wiping away the tears that had managed to make it onto her cheeks.

"I—" her voice hitched, "I… ran away."

"You ran away?" Vaughn repeated, his eyebrows lowering. "What d'you mean, ran away?"

"My passage got delayed until later today," Chelsea explained pitifully, wiping furiously at her face. "I don't have any more money. I had to wait out there."

"Wait for—what?" Vaughn frowned. His eyes narrowed. "A boat? To where?"

"Mineral Town," Chelsea hiccupped.

Vaughn stared at her, his expression blank.

"Vaughn, I—I couldn't take it," Chelsea blinked, not even trying to wipe away the tears now. "My crops all failed—_all_ of them, and I missed my parents, and Julia and Mirabelle were gone, and—and—and you probably hate me because of how stupid I was being, and—Vaughn, Daisy—she—she's _dead_—and I didn't know what to do, and—"

"Daisy's dead?" Vaughn interrupted, blinking in confusion. "What happened?"

Chelsea hiccupped, trying to compose herself enough to speak without squeaking pathetically. She gasped in a breath and hurried into the story, trying not to think about it. "I was checking on her—it was late, and I'd already given her food in the morning and she was fine, but—I don't know. I went in and she hadn't touched the fodder and she was just—just—"

Vaughn nodded, mumbling something to himself that Chelsea couldn't quite catch—something about some sort of disease. He met her gaze again. "So you were going to Mineral Town to get your parents' advice?"

Chelsea blinked once before shaking her head. "No…"

Vaughn frowned. "Then, what—?"

"I ran away," Chelsea repeated, her lower lip quivering. She couldn't meet Vaughn's confused gaze.

"You… ran away," he repeated again, like he was turning the words over and over in his head, trying to figure out what they meant. A few long seconds passed. "You mean… you gave up."

Chelsea couldn't bring herself to take her gaze off the floor.

"You were going back," Vaughn said. His tone surprised Chelsea—he sounded like he didn't believe it. Like he was almost hurt by it. "Just taking a boat back to Mineral Town without tellin' anyone?"

Chelsea forced herself to look up at him, confused at this reaction. She was expecting something more like a pitying disappointment—not disbelieving betrayal. She definitely wasn't expecting the angry look on his face.

"Was that it?" He spat. "You were just gonna leave? Just like that? Disappear?"

"I—I—" Chelsea started, taken aback. Vaughn interrupted her.

"Did you tell anyone? Leave a note?"

Chelsea shook her head, frowning. Looking back, she probably should have done that.

"So what was gonna happen when people wondered where you were?" He scowled, no longer leaning against the wall. "Was the whole island gonna search for you and never find you? What would they all think?"

"I didn't know what to do!" Chelsea exploded, scowling back up at Vaughn. "Everything was going wrong!"

"So you were gonna let everyone think you were dead," Vaughn glared. "Is that it?"

"No, I didn't—I mean, I—ugh!" Chelsea stamped her foot, glowering up at him with as much malice as she could muster up. "Why do you _care_, anyway?"

"Why do I _care_?" He replied heatedly, returning her livid look with one even more angry. "Damn it, Chelsea! I care because I lo—"

The loud ringing of the phone made Vaughn fall silent. The two of them exchanged one last glare, their breathing quickened from the heat of the argument.

Vaughn looked away, picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Vaughn, hey, it's me."

"What d'you want, Riley?"

"Whoa, someone's in a testy mood. Did I wake you up or something? You're usually already awake by now, so I figured it'd be okay to call."

Vaughn glanced at the clock. It was already past five o'clock. "What is it?"

"I wanted to know if the boats are going out today. I don't want to walk all the way out there only to find out that—"

"I don't think so. Hey, I gotta go."

"Hm. What's going on over there? You're never this… urgent in the morning."

"Nothin'. I gotta go."

"Hm. Okay, sure. Whatever you say. I'll see you later."

Vaughn hung up, sighing through his nose and bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Riley and his perfect timing.

Vaughn had almost said something he'd regret.

* * *

**Hmmm. Someone doesn't like the thought of Chelsea just up and leaving, hm?** **Hmmm, indeed.**

**Here's to more updates in the new year!** **:D**


	48. Hello, My Name Is Riley

**Wow, what a long hiatus. What was that, like four and a half months? Wow. Sorry Dx**

**Well, here's something - hopefully it'll get my creative juices a-flowing again. Enjoy!**

**P.S. oh my god you guys give me more reviews than I deserve I love you all**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1364  
_

_Date Updated: 4-15-12  
_

_Current Review Count: 623_

* * *

Chelsea sighed through her nose, calming herself down. Vaughn was really mad and, as she watched him hang up the phone and try to regain his composure, she realized that he had every right to be. Over the last few seasons, Chelsea and he had steadily become better and better friends. Now they were—well, Chelsea wasn't really sure _what_ they were—but they were close enough that he deserved to know that she was leaving.

She had just up and left without telling anyone. It hadn't occurred to her before, but Vaughn would have absolutely no idea where she was. Like he'd said, everyone might even think that she was dead. With her track record, it wouldn't be surprising.

But now that Vaughn had saved her, it put a new perspective on things. She wasn't completely alone anymore. She had Vaughn—and she wasn't sure she wanted to lose that, even if it meant she could be with her parents again.

Pursing her lips, Chelsea took a step closer to where Vaughn was near the phone. He looked at her, his face visibly weary. He looked like he hadn't gotten much more sleep than she had.

"I'm sorry," Chelsea said quietly, her voice tired. "I shouldn't have run away. It's just—when Daisy—"

"I know," Vaughn said, cutting her off. He was avoiding eye contact. "But you should've—hell, I don't know. Called me. Or waited for someone—anyone—to get back, at least."

"I thought you were mad at me," Chelsea muttered, willing herself not to cry again. It was easier than she thought it would be—maybe she'd managed to cry herself dry.

"Mad?" Vaughn rolled his eyes. "Naw. I thought _you_ were mad at _me_."

"What?" Chelsea frowned, surprised. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Never mind," Vaughn sighed. He glanced out the window at rainy light coming in from under the blinds. "I'm gonna run and get some sort of breakfast. You hungry?"

"I guess," Chelsea nodded. Then she offered him a weak smile. "Thanks. For everything. Again."

Vaughn nodded and put his hat on his head, hoping to conceal his blush as he walked out the door.

**Ooo**

Vaughn watched his boots step over the wet sidewalk as he made his way to the fast food restaurant. His fists were clenched until his knuckles turned white and his jaw was clenched.

She was such a damn klutz.

What was she thinking? She was going to kill herself. Maybe she was actually trying to. She was suicidal. That was the only explanation for her coming to the city like this. Had she really thought that it was a good idea to just sit outside in the storm and wait for morning? She couldn't possibly be stupid enough to not realize the danger that she was in. Why hadn't she found him—called him? Or just waited on the Island?

Vaughn grimaced. It was his fault. If he hadn't overreacted about those damn cookies, she wouldn't have thought he was mad at her and she probably wouldn't have hit rock bottom so quickly. She would have been safe the whole time, back on Sunny Island.

Vaughn sighed as he walked into the restaurant, rain dripping from his hat. He really was in deep with this one.

**Ooo**

Chelsea sat down on the futon, her breathing and the rain's pattering the only things breaking the silence of the apartment. She laid down on her side with a sigh. She was so glad Vaughn wasn't mad at her… But what was she going to do? She'd spent all her money on those boat tickets. If she didn't go to Mineral Town, she wasn't going anywhere. She was still as broke as she'd ever been only now she was stranded in the city.

At least she had Vaughn…

With that thought, all of the stress and sleep loss of the last several hours caught up to her and her eyelids fell shut.

**Ooo**

"Hey, Vaughn!" Riley called, opening the door to his friend's apartment with the spare key he'd managed to procure. He glanced around the one room quickly, and, not seeing the usual angsty cowboy he usually did, shrugged and plopped down on the futon. It was much firmer and bumpier than he remembered.

A small grunt came from beneath him as the blankets stirred. Riley shot up.

"Who's there?" He asked, his arms raised up defensively. "You better get out of this apartment—I swear to God, if Vaughn knows someone's been breaking in, he'd—"

He stopped short as the intruder sat up, pushing the blankets off of her sleepy form. She looked up at him, her blue eyes meeting his. In the brief moment that they watched each other, Riley noticed a few different things. The first being that she was very cute. The second being that she was wearing Vaughn's clothes. And the last being that her familiar eyes were growing larger by the millisecond.

And then she screamed.

It was maybe a few seconds later that Vaughn burst into the apartment and had Riley in a chokehold against the wall—until the cowboy recognized him and let him go.

"Damn it, Riley," Vaughn sighed, the tension visibly draining from his body. "What're you doin' here?"

"You were acting weird on the phone earlier," Riley grimaced, rubbing his neck where Vaughn had nearly strangled him. He raised an eyebrow after shooting a pointed glance Chelsea's direction. "I guess now I know why."

"Can I talk to you—in private?" Vaughn twitched. He didn't wait for Riley to answer before dragging him into the hallway and closing the door behind them.

"Dude," Riley said, his voiced hushed. "I can't believe you didn't tell me she was here! Or maybe I can, you dog."

"It ain't like that and you know it."Vaughn rolled his eyes, fighting off the urge to punch his friend. He looked at Riley seriously. "I didn't even know she was coming in, anyway."

Riley's expression hardened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I found her."

"Found her?" Riley repeated. "Found her where?"

Vaughn scowled at the wall.

"What happened, man?" Riley asked, his voice quiet again. He could tell that something was bothering Vaughn, and not the usual irritating way—this was more… serious. Like Vaughn was _worried_.

A moment of silenced passed as Vaughn drew in a deep, calming breath. He brought his steely gaze up to meet Riley's confused one. "She ran away."

"From the island? Why?"

"Some bad shit happened. It doesn't matter now. She spent all her money on a ticket to go back to Mineral Town—"

"Without telling you first?"

"Shut up," Vaughn glared. "She got stuck at the docks in the middle of the night on account of the storm. I found her in the alley—"

"Was she okay?" Riley asked, a million sketchy faces flashing through his mind. This city was full of weird people.

"She's fine now."

Silence engulfed them.

The door opened slowly then, and Chelsea poked her head out. Riley noticed the bruise on her cheek for the first time. Poor girl, he thought.

"Uh, Vaughn?" Chelsea squeaked, glancing nervously between the cowboy and his friend. "Who's this?"

"Oh," Riley said suddenly, straightening up with a laugh. He held out his hand to her. "Sorry—I'm Riley. You must be Chelsea, right?"

Chelsea took his hand and shook it, smiling as much as her swollen cheek would allow. "That's me."

"I've heard a lot about you," Riley smiled back at her, releasing her hand.

"Really?" Chelsea asked. She glanced over at Vaughn, surprised. "I hope it wasn't all too bad."

"You kidding?" Riley laughed. He sensed Vaughn's death glare and decided not to say anything else on the subject. "Anyway, you're probably hungry, right?"

"Oh," Chelsea said, turning back to Vaughn. "Did you—?"

"Got it," Vaughn said, holding up a slightly damp bag of food from the nearest fast food place.

"Mind if I join you two?" Riley piped up, grinning.

Chelsea smiled, giving him a little shrug.

Vaughn rolled his eyes. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

**Whew! Well, this turned out short and filler-ish. To be honest, it's been partially-written for months, so it may not match up well. Anywho, it's something and that's better than nothing, am I right? Hopefully this will give me the inspiration I've been lacking...**

**Also, I'd be lying if I said that writer's block was the only thing keeping me from writing. Do you know how much crap they make Junior do at my school? I mean, my God! It's amazing I'm still alive, I swear. Anyway, I have a month and a half of school left, then I'm on summer break. Before that, though, I have AP tests and finals and all sorts of crap to do. I already visited colleges and took the freaking SAT and ACT, though, so that's over... Man, when I'm in college, I'll be so much better off. I'm going to go to the University of Alabama. Well, maybe. Probably. Ideally.**

**Okay, so, I'll try to get another chapter up soon, but I'll be honest. It won't happen until net weekend at the very soonest, and I have Prom on Saturday, so... yeah, probably not. But the weekend after that is kind of long (we have an all-school beach day on that Monday, which means no classes), so that's looking more likely. Then the weekend after that is the weekend that Avengers comes out, I turn seventeen, and I cram my butt off for my AP Calc and AP US History exams. After that, I'm basically checked out and that means writing time!**

**Long author's not is long.**

**Thanks for bearing with me, guys! Trust me, I hate it more than you do. See you soon!**


	49. The Master of Miscommunication

**Ahahaha. Haaa. Hey guys.**

**Explanation in the bottom A/N. Or just go click on the link at the top of my profile. I made a vlog-thing to explain myself since I can't type it all here.**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1786  
_

_Date Updated: 12-30-12  
_

_Current Review Count: 681_

* * *

Vaughn watched Chelsea from across the table. She was staring blankly into her glass of milk. He hated seeing her eyes so _lifeless_.

"Vaughn, do you know when the boats will start up again?" Riley asked, cutting through the thick silence. He didn't even seem to realize it was there.

"Naw," Vaughn shrugged. "Usually it's a day after th'storm ends. But you don't need me t'tell ya that."

Riley nodded and glanced worriedly between Vaughn and Chelsea. He knew that they had been in a tiff back when Vaughn had left, but he didn't know all the details. And then for Chelsea to just show up here out of the blue—running away because of "some bad shit"—without any explanation… it wasn't good, Riley knew that much for sure. And neither of them seemed incredibly talkative at that particular moment, even though he knew that they had to talk out whatever was going on.

"Vaughn, can I talk to you for a second?" Riley said, giving Vaughn a look.

Instead of protesting, the cowboy obliged and stood up. The two of them went out into the hallway. Riley noticed that Chelsea remained in her spot, unmoved.

"What?" Vaughn asked, frowning irritably.

"What's going on?" Riley asked. "I need some information here if I'm going to help at all."

"Y'don't need to help," Vaughn scowled. "What on earth makes y'think I need your help?"

"I don't know," Riley rolled his eyes. "Maybe the fact that you two don't seem to be entirely buddy-buddy at the moment and she looks like she's about to have a nervous breakdown?"

Vaughn was about to make some scathing remark like he usually would, but the image of Chelsea's empty eyes seemed to fill his head at that moment. She did look like she was struggling to keep it together, and as much as he wanted to help, he had to admit to himself that he just wasn't tactful enough. He'd probably end up accidentally making it worse.

"Damn it," Vaughn muttered. He rubbed his hand over his face, sighing in defeat. "Fine. Go _help_—whatever th'hell that means."

Riley smiled at him. "Awesome. Just go buy something for lunch or dinner."

"Yeah, yeah," Vaughn rolled his eyes as he opened the door to his apartment to get his coat. "I'll be back."

Riley watch him leave, then brought his gaze back over to the girl frozen at the table. He observed her hunched over posture, her dead eyes, and her disheveled appearance.

She looked like she'd been through hell.

He hated to think it, but she almost reminded him of Vaughn when they'd first met.

Riley shook his head slightly. This girl would get out of this—whatever "this" was.

"So, Chelsea," Riley said cheerfully, sitting back down at the table.

She looked up at him, almost startled. Her face was dirty and tired, but the swelling on her cheek had gone down some.

"How are you?" He asked her, his tone becoming more earnest.

Chelsea blinked. How _was_ she? How could she answer that question? She felt numb, and she wasn't sure if that was an improvement from earlier or not. She settled on the easy answer. "I'm fine."

Riley nodded. "What about you and Mr. Insensitive Jerk?"

"Who?" Chelsea frowned. "Do you mean _Vaughn_?"

Riley laughed. "I heard you two had a bit of a misunderstanding, and knowing Vaughn, it was probably his fault."

"Vaughn's not an insensitive jerk—usually," Chelsea smiled slightly. "It was all so silly, looking back."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" Riley asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"He made me cookies for Spring Thanksgiving," Chelsea sighed.

"And you didn't like them," Riley said, a panic he had never seen coming settling into his gut. He'd been wrong and sent Vaughn in to get rejected. No wonder Vaughn had been pissed at him for the last week.

"No, no," Chelsea said quickly, her face turning a delicate pink. "It's not that—I just—I don't know, I thought—"

"You _did_ like them?" Riley blurted out before he could stop himself. Goddess, he was supposed to be helping her feel better, not interrogating her!

"Of course I did," she said, staring at the floor guiltily. "It was just so—so _unexpected_, especially coming from someone like Vaughn—I wasn't sure if he was being serious, and…"

"And he freaked out at you," Riley said, nodding. Vaughn could be so dense sometimes. He probably still had no idea Chelsea liked the cookies.

"He left the island before I could explain, and I felt horrible," Chelsea said, taking a deep breath. "And then all that stuff happened, and I—"

She stopped abruptly, and it occurred to Riley that she might actually still be on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

"Hey, it's okay," Riley said, offering her an encouraging smile. "You're fine."

Chelsea took a moment to compose herself. She would not degenerate into a mess of tears again. She would stay strong. She hated being so pathetic all the time, running away from her problems.

"Do you want to talk about it at all?" Riley offered. "I know Vaughn isn't the most talkative guy out there, so I—"

"Riley, you're too sweet," Chelsea laughed. "And even if Vaughn isn't good at talking, he makes up for it in his listening skills—and, besides, he knows exactly what to say when he has to."

Riley raised his eyebrows—that was a side of Vaughn he wasn't well acquainted with.

"But I think I'm good," Chelsea said, straightening up. "There'll be other seasons with more crops, and I can visit my parents later, and Julia will come back, and Vaughn and I are fine now, and I can always get another—another cow."

Riley gave her a sympathetic smile as she wiped away a few tears. So that's what happened—and then she got stuck here and had to go through Goddess knows what top off the whole thing. But she really, genuinely seemed like she was going to bounce back. She was strong.

Riley smiled to himself. Vaughn lucked out with this one.

**Ooo**

Vaughn sighed as he stood in the lobby of his apartment building. He hadn't left. There was nowhere to go out in this storm, and besides—he really didn't want to leave Chelsea.

But Riley was right. She needed to talk and he would only screw it up. He seemed to have a track record of making things worse.

He took in a deep breath and leaned against the cold wall. What was he supposed to do? He knew what he wanted to happen. He wanted Chelsea to be back to her normal, obnoxiously-happy self. But he couldn't think of a thing that he could do to fix this.

He closed his eyes. Why did all that shit happen to her? And right when they were actually on bad terms, too. The timing was horrible, and his conscious was chipping away at his sanity.

Being in love was exhausting.

**Ooo**

Vaughn pushed the door to his apartment open. He figured lingering in the lobby for half an hour was enough. He was starting to feel a little creepy.

"Oh, Vaughn," Chelsea said, pulling herself off the floor and walking over to him. "Where'd you go?"

The guilt in Vaughn's stomach intensified. As their eyes met, he didn't see that horrible emptiness anymore—thank Goddess—but instead, concern. She was _worried_ about _him_.

"Yeah, Vaughn," Riley piped up from the kitchen area. "Where'd you run off to?"

"I went out," Vaughn sighed, forcing himself to look away from Chelsea's face.

She frowned. "Are you alright?"

He couldn't believe it.

"Am _I_ alright?" Vaughn repeated, his mouth twitching in a scowl. "Who the hell cares? Chelsea—are _you_ alright?"

"Wha—Vaughn," Chelsea's frown deepened, her eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean, 'who cares'?"

And she completely missed his point.

He really was the master of miscommunication.

"Vaughn, come on," she continued, and he wanted to kick himself when he noticed how she was starting to look upset again. "You know that I—"

"Nevermind," Vaughn muttered. "I meant—don't be worryin' 'bout _me_."

"But," Chelsea blinked, "I can't help it."

"Well, stop," Vaughn sighed. She didn't get it.

"No," Chelsea shook her head, starting to get visibly irritated.

"Why not?" Vaughn scowled. She was just being stubborn now.

Chelsea glared up at him. "Because I—"

The phone started ringing and Chelsea immediately shut her mouth, turning red.

Vaughn raised his eyebrows at her. She looked like she was about to say something she'd regret. He knew the feeling.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

If she was going to say anything similar to what he was going to say just a few hours ago—

"Vaughn, man, are you gonna get that?" Riley asked from the kitchen, watching the scene unfold with amusement in his eyes.

Vaughn glared at him and picked up the phone. "What?"

"Vaughn! I'm so glad I got a hold of you—"

"Julia?" Vaughn frowned. She sounded pretty freaked out.

"Vaughn, Chelsea's gone! Felicia called us and—"

"I know," Vaughn sighed.

"She said they went to the farm after the storm and she wasn't there, and they found Daisy—"

"Julia, I know," he repeated, this time more loudly to be heard over her frantic squawking.

"And they—wait, what? Did you just say _you know_?"

"Yeah," he exhaled. He didn't really want to have to deal with her, but there was no way around it. "She's here."

"_Here_? Where's _here_?"

"My apartment," Vaughn said, his patience running low. "The place where my phone is. That y'called."

The other line was silent.

"Julia?"

"Why? How? What—Vaughn! What is going _on_? Let me talk to her!"

Vaughn took the phone away from his ear and held it out to Chelsea, who quickly took it from him. He noticed that her face was still red.

"Julia?" She said into the phone.

Vaughn decided not to linger around awkwardly. He walked into the kitchen area where Riley was.

"That was interesting," Riley snickered quietly at Vaughn.

"What?" Vaughn frowned.

"Nothing," Riley shrugged, smirking.

Vaughn felt his eye twitch. Damn Riley.

Chelsea hung up the phone a moment later and walked back over to the men.

"So?" Riley said, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Chelsea smiled, albeit a little unsurely. "Julia and Mirabelle are leaving the city tomorrow, and they offered to take me with them."

"To the island?" Vaughn asked.

"Of course," Chelsea said, raising her eyebrow at him. Then, she smiled at him—genuinely. "I have to finish what I started, don't I?"

* * *

**Blarghghslhf. I hate this chapter. Didn't turn out well.**

**Anywho, two main orders of business here. First, I have a new poll in my profile. Please vote, since it'll affect the outcome of the story! Second, and more importantly, please please PLEASE check out the link to the youtube video at the top of my profile. It's a video of me explaining myself and I'd love it if you watched it for me. It contains all of my grovelling for forgiveness and that good stuff.**

**P.S. Thanks for the obscene amounts of reviews over the hiatus guys. I love you all. See you next update (which you can totes here about in my video). (:**


	50. Heading Home

**So that whole biweekly thing didn't work out. But hey, at least now I'm overcoming some writer's block. Enjoy this little chapter!**

**Oh, also: OMG OVER 700 REVIEWS. YOU GUYS. OMG.**

**Also also: I missed the fic's three-year birthday. This thing is olddd. :P**

**Also also also: CHAPTER FIFTYYYYY**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1229  
_

_Date Updated: 3-5-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 704  
_

* * *

The remainder of Chelsea's stay at Vaughn's apartment was surprisingly smooth—except for the problem of sleeping arrangements.

The subject didn't even seem important until it was well past ten o'clock and Chelsea was fading fast. Vaughn had all of one futon when it came to sleeping utensils, and he usually used it as a bed himself. Naturally, Chelsea put up a fight when he offered it to her, saying she didn't want to impose. And, of course, he argued back that she was in no shape to be sleeping on the floor.

Lucky for him, she was almost too tired to keep her eyes open, so the solution was to simply wait a few minutes before she was out like a light—on the futon.

He sat in his recliner, the darkness of his apartment not nearly as overbearing as it usually was. The room felt so much less empty and removed, and it was all because of the addition of one petite girl. He could hear her deep, rhythmic breathing mixed with the faint sounds of the busy city below.

He'd never really realized it, but her presence alone had a measurable effect on him. Here she was, entirely unconscious and in the lowest spirits he'd ever known her to be in, and she still made the apartment that much more _alive_.

He leaned back, the weight of the day finally getting to him. The initial fluttering in his chest at her proximity was calming and he relaxed into the chair. The only other time he and Chelsea had been in a situation like this was during that snowstorm a season earlier. That was before he'd realized his feelings for her and he was beginning to trust her, back when he was just confused and still pretty angry with the world. But here, now, with her just near him, knowing how he felt about her, it was different.

For the first time in a long while, he felt truly at peace.

**Ooo**

The morning came faster than Vaughn would have liked. He woke up before the sun, as usual. Chelsea was still curled up on the futon, her face calm and content—except for the multicolored bruise painting her cheek. He grimaced. He should have prevented that…

"Mhhmm," Chelsea hummed, her body stretching out.

Vaughn quickly averted his gaze from her face and continued brewing a pot of coffee.

**Ooo**

Chelsea's eyes fluttered open, and she instinctively shot up, unaware of her surroundings. Her eyes were still foggy from sleep and she could barely make out a tall figure in the darkness, moving across the room.

The pain in her cheek coupled with the confusion at her whereabouts gripped her with terror—her throat made a quiet, strangled, scared sound against her will. The figure froze and turned towards her. She felt her heart stop. It was that man—the man from the alley—she was sure of it. What had happened? Why couldn't she remember?

The figure was getting closer and closer and she didn't know what to do, so she took as deep a breath as her constricted lungs would allow and screamed.

"Shhhhh!" The man shushed loudly, "Goddess, Chelsea!"

Chelsea froze again—she knew that deep drawl...

"Vaughn?"

The light from a lamp suddenly filled the room and Chelsea found herself staring into the startled, tired eyes of her favorite cowboy.

"What's the matter with you?" He asked, but he sounded more concerned than hostile.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what—I—I thought you were that man—"

Vaughn's face wavered. He hadn't thought that she would be traumatized by the alley incident—but, now that he thought about it, he really should have expected it. She was strong, but she was still a normal girl.

Her eyes looked up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Vaughn."

"Don't be," he said, looking away. His heart hurt for her.

Where was this sympathy yesterday? He really could have used it instead of the irrational nerves and anger he'd been feeling. If he'd been this calm then, he probably wouldn't have needed Riley to intercede for him.

He glanced back at her warily. Her small smile made him feel warm all over.

**Ooo**

"Chelsea!"

Chelsea smiled apologetically at the teary-eyed blonde as she burst through the door to Vaughn's apartment, crushing her in a massive hug.

"Hey, Julia."

"I was so _worried_, Chels!" Julia said, pulling away momentarily. Her eyes widened suddenly, her gaze dropping to Chelsea's cheek. "What happened to you?"

"It's nothing," Chelsea shrugged, urgently glancing over to Vaughn for help.

"The boat's gonna leave soon," Vaughn mumbled, unsure what she wanted him to say.

Julia turned back to face him, crossing the room. She spoke in a hushed voice as Chelsea went to get her rucksack. "How did she end up _here_, Vaughn?"

Vaughn thought about lying to her, but something in Julia's worried gaze made him realize that she was Chelsea's friend, too. Everything Vaughn had felt when he heard Chelsea had left, she had felt, too. But it wasn't his information to share.

"She'll tell ya," Vaughn sighed. "Just give her time."

Julia eyed him strangely for a moment before smirking. "You're acting strangely civil."

"Would y'prefer that I snap at you?" Vaughn scowled.

She let out a laugh. "There's the Vaughn I know."

"Alright, Julia," Chelsea said, joining the others in the kitchenette. "I'm ready to go."

"I told Mama we'd meet her at the docks," Julia said with a nod. "We shouldn't keep her waiting long."

The door to the apartment opened then, surprising everyone. Riley stumbled inside, out of breath. He saw the three of them and relaxed.

"Good, I didn't miss you," he panted. "Chels, get over here."

Chelsea and Vaughn exchanged a glance before she crossed the room to Riley. The lanky man gave her a sly little smile and pulled her into a tight hug, surprising her.

"He'd _kill_ me if he knew I told you this," Riley muttered urgently into her ear, "but he likes you, Chelsea. He really, really likes you, and don't ever think otherwise."

He pulled away then, giving her a brilliant smile and walking over to the others—paying special attention to Julia, it seemed—leaving the farmer by herself, stunned.

Her heart skipped and she never really realized just how much she wanted to hear those words.

**Ooo**

The four of them made it to the docks with just a few minutes before the boat was scheduled to embark. Julia and Riley had been engrossed in flirtatious conversation the entire time, and Vaughn and Chelsea had walked behind them in a comfortable silence.

Mirabelle waved at them from the deck of the boat and the four of them stopped at the gate. Julia got out the tickets and Riley pulled her in for a hug. Chelsea watched as she pulled away, clearly in a giddy daze, and headed to the gate.

Chelsea turned to Vaughn, smiling up at him. "Thanks again, Vaughn."

"Anytime," he said, tipping his hat to her.

"See you Wednesday?" She asked brightly.

He nodded, not bothering to try to conceal his small smile at her enthusiasm.

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his torso. He stiffened only for a moment before she felt his warm arms return the embrace.

Chelsea smiled. Riley was right.

* * *

**A little filler-y, and very short, but I wanted fluff and this is what I got. Mushy Vaughn. LOL. I can work with that. Thanks for reviewing! Love you all. Here's to another update soon.**


	51. A Parental Encounter

**Here we go. I'm on a roll. Let's see if I can keep the momentum up!**

**This is a little baby chapter, but it's pretty plot-relevant. This is starting a new arc-quite possibly my favorite of the story. Welcome to the Inclement Summer Arc, everyone.** **;)**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1174  
_

_Date Updated: 3-10-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 712_

* * *

Chelsea sat in her room, on her bed. She didn't know what to do besides just… sit. Her crops were gone and there wasn't enough time left in the season to plant any new ones. She'd usually be in her barn, but—

She squeezed her eyes shut. She'd already spent the last few nights she'd been back crying. At the rate she was going, she'd die of dehydration. She took a deep, cleansing breath and sat up to move over to her window. The late springtime sun was setting over her barren field. It was already Monday. She'd been back for four days and after her initial rounds to apologize for disappearing and thanking everyone for their concern—and taking care of Daisy—she'd been in her house.

She hadn't left since Friday evening. Julia had been by every day, usually with food, which Chelsea initially declined but with Julia's insistence teamed up with her own stomach growling, she'd given in.

She didn't mean to become a recluse. She knew that everyone was worrying about her, and she didn't like making a fuss, but it was just really hard to get herself out. She was out of money entirely from the boat tickets and she didn't have anything to do anyway. Now, she was literally trapped.

At least Julia was there for her. And Vaughn.

Chelsea smiled slightly, her tears drying as she remembered what Riley had told her at Vaughn's apartment. He _did_ like her. The cookies weren't a joke. He actually, honestly liked her. And she liked him.

But that was before she tried to run away and she underwent this personality change. She didn't _feel_ like she was very different from usual, but she knew that she was. She didn't want to be this lonely or secluded or sad—she just couldn't help it.

Vaughn of all people should understand that.

Chelsea sighed, looking down at her scratched knees. Vaughn liked her—but did he like her even when she wasn't happy like she usually was? It was just so hard to be excited to get up when she knew there wasn't anything to do.

The only thing that actually kept her remotely held together was waiting for Wednesday to get there.

**Ooo**

Vaughn sat on the sand at the beach in Forget-Me-Not, just zoning out at the sunset. He really wanted to be with Chelsea. He'd almost called Mirabelle to ask how she was doing, but he'd stopped himself. Mirabelle was a busy woman and he wasn't in the habit of making calls to his boss for anything besides work-related affairs.

But damn, did he want to talk to Chelsea.

"Are you alright?"

He leapt up of the sand, startled out of his reverie by a feminine voice approaching him. He looked over at her and felt the blood rush out of his face completely.

It was Chelsea's mother, Claire.

And for some reason he felt compelled to be polite to her.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, averting his gaze. He hid his face under his hat because it suddenly felt very warm.

She hummed, nodding. "You seemed a bit sad."

He shrugged lamely.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, unable to verbally reply even if he wanted to. Chelsea was so much like her, it _scared_ him.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. She didn't leave, though. Instead, she turned to look out at the sunset and heaved a sigh of her own.

Vaughn kicked himself for speaking before he even spoke. "Are you okay, ma'am?"

"Me?" She turned to him, surprised. She let out a small laugh. "I'm getting by."

Silence engulfed them. Vaughn knew that Claire was missing Chelsea. It had been almost a year since Chelsea had run away and she hadn't seen her since then. He almost felt bad about stopping Chelsea from going back…

"I know you don't really care," Claire said, smiling, "But can I tell you what's actually on my mind?"

Vaughn just nodded, suddenly panicking. What if they knew about him? What if _she_ knew he knew where Chelsea was? He knew already that he couldn't tell her about the island. Chelsea would do that when she was ready—but in the meantime, how would he get out of it? His boat was barely appearing on the horizon.

Claire smiled up at him, giving him déjà vu. "My daughter ran away."

He just nodded.

"It's been almost a year and her father and I have been worried sick about her. It's been a while since we got a letter from her and we're worried. Things hadn't been going her way, but in her last letter she said everything was getting better… but I don't know what to think. I just want her home, you know?"

Vaughn just nodded again.

"Her father's been taking it especially hard. He's always so stubborn and likes to make people think he's not sensitive at all, but I know how much this is hurting him."

"What is she like?" Vaughn was just as surprised as Claire at his question.

"She's the sweetest girl you'll ever meet—maybe too sweet. She's always been too trusting and a little naïve, but she means well and she's got her father's stubbornness."

Vaughn nodded, trying to conceal the smile creeping onto his face. That was definitely Chelsea.

"You travel around a lot, don't you?" Claire asked him. "Have you seen a girl, a little taller than me, with brownish hair and blue eyes?"

"There's lots of blue-eyes brunettes in the world, ma'am," he replied.

"But none of them are quite like my daughter," she said sadly.

He silently agreed.

"I remember when she was little," Claire said, a small smile on her aging face. "She'd run around on the farm all day and she'd only come in if I made her favorite sandwiches. Peanut butter and—"

"Honey," Vaughn muttered absentmindedly.

The air around them grew thick with tension.

Shit, he'd screwed up.

"How did you—?" She asked, but her voice was cut off by the sound of the boat's horn.

He quickly tipped his hat to her and hurried to the boat.

"Wait! Wait, are you Vaughn?"

He pretended not to hear her.

"Tell Chelsea we miss her—please! Please, Vaughn!"

He still pretended not to hear her.

"Tell her we love her," she shouted once more. "Please!"

Vaughn, now on the deck of the ship, nodded once to her.

She swallowed hard and wiped at the tears that had somehow found their way to her cheeks. Before the boat was completely gone, she mustered up all of her strength and shouted, "Is she alright?"

She prayed to the goddess that he'd heard her as she watched him and waited for his response.

A moment passed and he didn't move. Another moment, and the boat started to pull out. She was about to turn away, when she saw him move.

He nodded.

She nodded back and hurried back to the inn. She had to call Gray.

* * *

**Dun, dun, dun. Tbh I actually did not plan this little subplot in at all. But it was interesting, so we're going with it! Review and tell me how you think this new mixture of Vaughn and Chelsea's parents will work out, yeah? :P**


	52. Chin Up

**So the momentum didn't keep. Life sucks guys. Everything is so hectic right now. I graduate high school in two weeks, I just turned 18, I'm getting ready to start college and this poor fic got caught up in the flurry of all the things I'm procrastinating doing. It's like 4:30am right now and I literally don't know what I'm even typing now, haha.**

**This chapter was almost 2800 words long, so I cut it in half. This is the first half, and I'll put out the second half later this week. You guys are guaranteed another update, and soon! Woo!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1604  
_

_Date Updated: 5-12-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 721_

* * *

"Gray—where are you?!"

The blacksmith turned his attention to his wife, who had just burst into the lobby of the Inn. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "What is it now, Claire?"

"Gray," she panted, running over to him. "I just—met Vaughn."

"Vaughn? Who's—" He tensed, realization dawning on him. "Chelsea's friend?"

Claire nodded fervently, leaning forward to catch her breath.

"What did he say? Where is he? Is Chelsea—?"

"No, no," Claire cut him off, shaking her head. She sat up straight, regaining her composure. "I don't know where she is—I didn't even know it was him until he was on his boat and sailing away."

"Claire," Gray frowned. A million thoughts raced through his head—was Vaughn a shady guy? Was he a liar? Was he the kind of guy his daughter should be hanging around? He blinked, organizing his thoughts. "What happened, Claire?"

Claire told him all about the encounter on the beach, remembering the entire conversation verbatim. "And then he nodded. She's alright, Gray. She's alright."

Gray tried to sift through all this information, but one thing glared out at him above everything else. "He knew all along who you were, didn't he?"

"Vaughn?" Claire asked, confused at her husband's response. "I don't know, but I'd assume so…"

"Why did he play dumb?" Gray asked, gritting his teeth. "He _knows_ where she is. He knows what we're going through. Why didn't he tell us? The bastard."

"Gray," Claire pursed her lips, giving him a stern look. "Think about it. He and Chelsea are close—if Chelsea hasn't told us where she is herself, then she doesn't want us to know. He probably knows that."

"Doesn't he have any respect for us, her parents?" Gray muttered, scowling.

Claire placed her hand on his arm. "He has respect for her and her wishes, and quite frankly, I'm almost glad that he didn't tell us where she is since it would be blatantly breaking her trust. I mean, I'm _not_ glad, but I _almost_ am."

Gray let out one hollow laugh. "You do have a point, I guess… but still, I don't like him."

"What? Why not?" Claire raised her eyebrows. "Is it just because she has a thing for him? Because it's totally fine if it is, Gray. You've always been overprotective of her."

"What?" Gray scoffed, turning pink. "No—and what do you mean, 'she has a thing for him'? Chelsea would never—"

"Mhmm," Claire rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Sure, Chelsea would _never_ fall for a guy like him, right?"

"Of course she wouldn't."

"Or do _you_ just not _want_ her with anyone like him?" Claire teased, her face pulled up into a smirk.

"He seems insensitive and rough. Chelsea couldn't want to be with a guy like _him_," Gray mumbled, almost to himself.

Claire laughed. "Just like _I_ couldn't want to be with a guy like _you_?"

Gray frowned down at her.

She smiled up at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I just hope we see her again soon," he sighed, rolling his eyes at his silly wife and her silly, sound logic.

**Ooo**

Chelsea finished watering the last of her newly-planted tomatoes. She only had a few meager plots down, but she was thankful for them—Chen had insisted she take the seeds as a gift. As much as she hated taking handouts, she knew that she had no other options at this point.

She straightened out her back and looked across her weed-wrought field. It looked almost the same way it did when she washed up on this island almost a year ago.

It was the beginning of summer, the same season she'd run away in. She closed her eyes, inhaled the warm breeze, and felt the sun beat down on her head. It warmed her hair through her bandana. She felt like she was back on her mom's farm, standing in the plots of corn and tomatoes and cucumbers, hearing the buzz of the bees in the tree and the rippling of the grass in the wind.

As the breeze died down, she opened her eyes and saw reality again.

Chelsea blinked several times, readjusting. This was her farm, not her mom's. She was here, not there. As much as she missed Mineral Town, this farm was her home—it was where she belonged.

She just wished she'd made some progress instead of coming full circle.

Once more, she looked out over the debris that covered her farm. Then, she put her watering can away and reached down to the nearest weed, yanking it out of the ground.

By the time the sun was making its way down the horizon, Chelsea still hadn't left her field. She'd been weeding and chopping branches and moving rocks all day in the heat, but she had to work even harder than she'd been working before.

She tore her axe out of the tree trunk she'd been working on for the last half hour. Slouching down in exhaustion, she wiped at the sweat pooling on her face.

"I can do this," she muttered to herself. "I can do this."

Then, with a grunt, she forced the axe back into the wood and tried to pull it out again. Her arms felt like noodles, but she kept ripping at the stump—the axe wasn't coming out, no matter how hard she tugged on it. She gripped it with both of her hands and yanked, but it wouldn't budge. She huffed and grunted and gave it every ounce of strength she had, but it was stuck.

She let go of the handle and fell back onto the dusty ground. She took a deep breath and glared at the axe angrily. All of the frustration she'd been trying to hold back from the realization of her wasted year was coming out. What was she doing here? Who was she kidding, really? She couldn't even get an axe out of a stump, or have one successful harvest, or keep her one animal alive.

She blinked and felt a tear mingle with the sweat and dirt on her face.

"No," she growled, wiping furiously at her eyes. "No, no, no! No more _crying_!"

"Chels?"

Her entire body tensed and she let out a curse in her surprise. She turned to see who was standing behind her—who had probably witnessed her little exhibition of pathetic failure.

"Sorry, Jules," she sighed, pulling herself up even though her legs were screaming in protest. "I was—I was just—"

"Chelsea," Julia interrupted her, shaking her head. "You're working too hard."

"What?" Chelsea asked, almost laughing at the blonde. "Too _hard_? Julia, I'm not working hard _enough_."

Julia looked at her friend with raw concern. She was covered head to toe in dirt, her skin was bruised and scraped from the rocky ground, her hands blistered and red from chopping wood for Goddess knows how long. She looked like she hadn't been getting nearly enough sleep at night and Julia knew that she'd only been eating what Mirabelle had been sending over, which was one good meal a day—certainly not enough to fuel this kind of work.

Chelsea looked like she'd run herself ragged, and she thought that she wasn't doing _enough_?

"Chelsea," Julia shook her head, stepping closer to the farmer. "You should go easier on yourself."

"How can I, Jules?" Chelsea inhaled sharply, turning away from the blonde and towards the rest of the farm. "Look at this place. Look at it! It's exactly how it was a year ago when I first got here, only now I have absolutely nothing. Chen gave me these seeds. I have to pay him back—I'm in _debt_ now. Julia, I have _negative_ money."

"Chelsea—"

"It's been a whole year and I have absolutely nothing to show for it."

"That's not true," Julia said firmly.

Chelsea looked back at her skeptically, waiting for elaboration.

"Chelsea, you may not have money, or prestige, or even an especially successful farm. But do you know what you do have?" Julia didn't wait for a reply. "You have me. You have my mom. You have Denny, and Lanna, and Chen and Charlie and Felicia and everyone who lives on this island. And you also have Vaughn, Chelsea. Think about _him_. If you hadn't been here, he'd still be the same old grumpy, life-hating person he was a year ago.

"So no, you don't have _nothing_ to show for your year here. You have friends. You have us—and you have him."

Chelsea stood there, staring blankly at her friend as her brain processed everything she'd just been told. Her impact wasn't made on the farm. That was what she'd been expecting. Instead, it was made on other people—especially on Vaughn. She hadn't made crops grow as much as she'd made him grow. How could she discount him and Julia and all her other friends?

Her face felt hot and she blinked back tears—tears of shame. "Julia—you're right. I'm… I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" Julia scoffed and shook her head. "Don't be sorry. Just keep your chin up. If nothing else, remember—you have us."

Chelsea nodded and smiled slightly, sniffling a little. "Thanks, Jules."

"No problem, Chels," Julia smiled, pulling the dirty farmer into a tight hug. "Now, go clean up. It's Wednesday—remember?"

"What? No—it's Tuesday, isn't it—?" Chelsea pulled away, realization dawning on her. She sprinted down the path towards the beach.

"Chelsea! Wait!" Julia called after her. "You're filthy!"

* * *

**And there we have it! A longer, angsty chapter for you guys. I don't mean to sound like a teenager, but God, is angst such a _thing_ now. This chapter wasn't going to be this... heavy, but hey, the fingers type what the body feels. You guys will like the next chapter a lot, I think. Or actually, maybe you won't. It depends. If I were one of you, I'd like it, but that's just me. Find out in a week(ish)! Thanks for reviewing, guys. It brings sunshine to my days.**


	53. Third Time's the Charm

**Ohohoho.**

**Happy birthday, LoquaciousStar.** **Also, thanks for the birthday/graduation wishes from everyone! This is my gift to you all.**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1312  
_

_Date Updated: 5-15-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 729_

* * *

Vaughn sighed as his boat pulled up to the dock on Sunny Island. The encounter with Chelsea's mom had really left him frazzled. Should he tell Chelsea, or would that be too stressful for her right now? If he didn't tell her, would it be like he was lying to her?

He sighed again, his mouth set in an irritated scowl. As he picked up his bag and walked down the dock, he couldn't help but think that that damn farmer was an awful lot of trouble. All that stress he had because of her—it was unbelievable.

His boat had come in pretty late already, but he didn't feel the need to rush over to Mirabelle's. He just walked a little ways on the sand, set down his bag, and looked out over the water. He was dying to talk to Chelsea—to see how she was holding up—but he was also kind of dreading it because of that dilemma with her mom.

He brought his gloved hand up to rub his face. Being in love was exhausting.

"Vaughn!"

Vaughn cringed at the voice. It looked like he wouldn't have to agonize over whether or not to go find her—she'd found him. He heard her boots in the sand as she ran and he turned around just in time for her to run right into him, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Her arms wrapped around him tightly and he staggered backwards to keep his balance.

"Chelsea—" He looked down at her and saw how _bad_ she looked. He didn't even have a chance to feel embarrassed at their contact before concern washed over him entirely. He put his hands on her shoulders and took a step back to survey her ridiculously ill appearance. "What'n the hell have you been doin'—starvin' yourself?"

She blushed—at least she had _some_ color in her face, Vaughn thought sarcastically—and she looked down at her boots. She nervously wrung her blistered, raw hands in front of her.

"Chels," Vaughn said, making a concerted effort not to sound harsh, "what've you been doin'?"

"Working," she replied, just as simple as that.

"Workin' _too much_," Vaughn shook his head. He moved to drop his hands from her shoulders, but she swayed dangerously without his support. "Have you been eatin'? Sleepin'?"

She nodded.

"Enough?"

She didn't reply.

"Chels." He sighed through his nose. She was going to kill herself, and then what would he do?

He shuddered internally at the thought.

"Vaughn," Chelsea said, looking up at him with those eyes of hers. They looked remarkably brighter than they'd been the last few times he'd seen her, despite her physical appearance. "I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes. "Just get some more sleep and—"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm sorry for running away. For leaving you."

His head jerked back slightly in surprise, unsure how to react at this sudden shift in the conversation.

The air grew thick.

When he didn't respond immediately, she continued, looking at the ground. "I was wrong. I was overreacting and I should have realized that even though we weren't on the best of terms, I should have considered the effects of my actions more before I just ran. I mean, maybe I'm wrong, but it had to have hurt you—I like to think we're really close and for me to just run away like that after you _trusted_ me—"

"It's fine, Chelsea."

"No, it's not," she shook her head, looking back up at him. "It's really not. I apologized to you before, but I don't think that covered it. You mean a lot to me, Vaughn. Our friendship is one of the most important things in my life."

He cringed.

She realized what she'd said.

_Friendship_.

"I—I mean," she frantically spoke, trying to de-friendzone the cowboy in front of her. "Friendship _in general _is one of the most important things—like _all_ the friends I've made on the island—not just you—er, I mean, you're more important than them. Well, no, no, no, not more _important_—I mean, you're just, uh, _different_ from them. Our frien—_relationship_, I mean, is, um, different from… uh, yeah…"

Vaughn just stared blankly at her as she rambled nervously, her face turning more and more red as the words tumbled out of her mouth. She _obviously_ realized what she'd said and what it had implied, and now she was _obviously_ trying to undo it, to give a different impression. He used to be too dense to realize that, but now it was so incredibly clear to him.

The impression that she was trying to give was that they weren't _just friends_.

She _liked_ him, and judging by the color of her face, she liked him a _lot_. He was sure of it even though he had no idea why he should be. It was just a feeling, and he trusted it.

He took a step closer to her, effectively shutting her up. He looked down at her, and she looked up at him. Their eyes met.

Her eyes told him _I like you, I like you, I like you. _

_Kiss me._

Her eyelids dropped down heavily and her face was close and he started to close his eyes and stoop down just a little bit, and he felt her breath hitting his chin as she exhaled and he tilted his head just slightly to the right and parted his lips slightly and then—

"Ey! Chelsea, Vaughn!"

They both jerked forward, Denny's voice pulling them out of their trance and sending their foreheads colliding into one another.

Vaughn let go of Chelsea's shoulders like they were burning him through his gloves, and she stumbled back into the sand, landing on her rear.

Denny slowed his jog as he approached them, looking between the two of them quizzically. "Sorry guys, I didn't mean to—"

"Oh no no no, Denny," Chelsea laughed nervously as she scrambled up, wobbling dangerously until Vaughn's hand steadied her. She glanced over at it and he removed it quickly, both of them averting their gazes from each other once more, like they were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Denny raised his eyebrows at their matching beet-red complexions. "Riiiight. Well, I was going to see if either of you wanted to go fishing, but Chels—you look a bit worn out. I'm sure Vaughn was about to help you get home, right, man?"

Vaughn didn't reply, just soundlessly picked up his bag and started walking back towards town.

Chelsea and Denny watched him go, both a little bit surprised, but then again, neither of them _really_ surprised.

He stopped at the edge of the sand and the cobblestone and looked over his shoulder. "Y'comin' or not, Chels?"

She blinked and hurried after him as quickly as her jelly legs would carry her. He didn't speak at all on the entire walk back to her ranch—in fact, the only time he acknowledged her was when he'd occasionally reach over to steady her—but she was absolutely fine with that. They finally made it back to her door in the late evening light, the awkwardness and tension still so thick Chelsea thought she would drown in it.

"See you tomorrow, Vaughn," she said, giving him a little smile, her face still pink.

He tipped his hat to her, nodding once before turning back to go to work.

Sighing, she leaned against the doorframe and watched him disappear down the path. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered all the way up to her throat and back down in a flurry. She felt lightheaded—and not just from the hard labor she'd been doing all day. She hoped that next time, they'd finish what they'd started.

After all, third time's the charm.

* * *

**Oh snap. So close, but so far. Deja vu to chapter 30, anyone? Ahahaha. I love this chapter.**

**I haven't written the next one yet, but I know what's going to happen the entire season of summer in the story and I'm so stoked. I'll be going to Disneyland/California Adventure tomorrow for Grad Nite and we won't get back until Friday morning at like 5am. That means I don't think I'll even be able to reply to your reviews until sometime late Friday evening, let alone write the next chapter. I'll see what I can do this weekend, though! Let me know what you thought of this chapter. What does it mean for our farmer and cowboy? Review and tell me your thoughts! (:**


	54. So Close

**I can't believe I'm keeping a really good schedule with this suddenly. This chapter was originally really huge, just like the last one, so I'm cutting it in half-just like the last one. Actually, these two and the last two are similar in a lot of ways. Hmmm. I didn't really think about that.**

**Oh, well. I'm not as in love with this pair as I was with the last pair, but they had to happen in order to get the ball rolling in the next few chapters! Basically, these are filler chapters, but only sort of? I don't know! All I know is that I have this one and the next one will come out later this week!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1345  
_

_Date Updated: 5-19-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 738_

* * *

Julia sat at the counter in the animal shop, pushing her eggs around her plate. Her chin was resting in her palm, her elbow propped up on the table.

She let out an airy sigh.

"Julia, you haven't touched your breakfast," Mirabelle said as she walked by her daughter. "Are you feeling alright, dear?"

"I'm wonderful, Ma," Julia said, her face pulling up into a dazed smile. She couldn't stop thinking about Vaughn's friend. Who would have thought that such an antisocial grouch could be friends with such a charming, easygoing, handsome young man?

Mirabelle rolled her eyes at her daughter and went back into the kitchen to wash the dishes. She passed Vaughn as he walked into the room. "Morning, Vaughn. How are you this morning?"

Vaughn didn't seem to hear her and he kept ambling into the shop area, his gaze fixed on the floor. He seemed to be in some sort of daze.

"Vaughn?" Mirabelle repeated, "Vaughn, are you okay?"

He heard her then and snapped back to his senses. He visibly tensed and pulled his hat down over his eyes. "Sorry, ma'am—I was a little… distracted."

"I see," Mirabelle said, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. "Anyone in particular distracting you?"

His only reply was to shift uncomfortably and mutter something about having a lot of work to make up before slipping outside.

Mirabelle sat down and looked between the door where Vaughn had just left and the counter where her daughter was still zoned out. It seemed that the love bug was going around the island.

**Ooo**

Vaughn hurried outside into the mist of the morning. He had a lot of work to do today in order to make up for coming in so late yesterday.

He thought back to what had happened to make him so late. His face colored slightly.

Damn. They were so close.

He walked into the chicken coop and began to scatter feed for the clucking birds. He wasn't sure how to act now around Chelsea. It had to be obvious after yesterday that he had feelings for her, and based on what had happened—or, almost happened—she wasn't about to reject him.

Where did that leave them?

First and foremost, Vaughn felt… relieved. And excited. And—happy?

But then he also felt nervous and awkward and confused. He was no good at talking about much of anything, let alone things like _feelings_. And dense as he could be, even he knew that they wouldn't be able to have any sort of conversation without addressing the almost-kiss from yesterday.

He shivered. He really was so close…

He set down the bag of chicken feed and leaned against the wall. If he kept dwelling on that, he would get nothing done all day, and then he'd really be screwed for work. He had to think of something else—something like work. He would be headed out to Flowerbud that night, and then Monday he'd head back to Forget-Me-Not—

His eyes widened. He still had to tell Chelsea about her mom.

"Shit," he muttered, kicking up some of the dirt on the coop floor.

"Everything alright?"

Vaughn pushed off the wall in surprise, turning quickly to see Julia watching him from the entrance of the coop. He didn't reply and instead walked past her and out into the morning.

Julia watched him go, her eyebrows raised. Something was off with him, and she knew just who to ask about it.

**Ooo**

Chelsea set down her watering can and stretched her arms up above her head. She was ridiculously sore from yesterday and her hands were covered in blisters, making today's minimal work of watering seem ten times more difficult than it really was.

She'd be lying if the only reason it was hard to focus was her aching muscles, though.

She sighed as her mind yet again wandered back to yesterday's encounter with her favorite cowboy. They were so close—it would be so much easier if they had finally just kissed and gotten it over with, but now she had to figure out how to deal with _telling_ him how she felt instead of _showing_ him.

She grimaced. This was not going to be easy.

"Hey, Chelsea!"

Chelsea turned around to greet her blond friend. "Hey, Julia. What's up?"

"I think we need to talk," Julia said, raising her eyebrows. "About Vaughn."

Chelsea sighed. "Great."

"So what's going on?" Julia asked, smirking slightly. "Something _obviously_ happened yesterday."

"What makes you say that?" Chelsea frowned slightly. "Did Vaughn say anything about it?"

"Vaughn? Say something? That's funny," Julia laughed. "But no, he was just acting really weird."

"_Weird_?" Chelsea repeated. "Weird how?"

"He just seemed off," Julia shrugged. "I don't know. Not quite upset, but… like something was _bothering_ him."

Chelsea's frown deepened. Why would he be bothered by what happened yesterday? She blinked. What if he regretted it all—what if he didn't actually want to kiss her? What if she was right and he only liked her back when she was happy-go-lucky all the time?

"Chelsea?" Julia asked, her eyebrows knitting in concern. "What happened, anyway?"

"He almost kissed me," Chelsea said absently, these new revelations occupying her mind. "Again."

"Wait, what?" Julia blinked, her mouth dropping open. "What—how? Spill!"

Chelsea pursed her lips. "I just went to apologize to him for running away and everything and then—I don't know, it was like on Starry Night, only this time it seemed like he was going to go through with it."

"But he didn't?" Julia asked, frowning. "That doesn't make any sense."

"No, no, he was going to. I think." Chelsea sighed. "But Denny ran up and surprised us, basically ending it before it even happened."

"Damn it, Denny," Julia scowled lightly. "But I don't see what the problem here is—I mean, you two were totally going to kiss, right?"

"Well, yeah," Chelsea said, looking at the ground. "But—"

"But what?" Julia raised her eyebrows, smiling. "This is great, Chels! This is basically the same as telling each other how you feel!"

"But it's not, because we _didn't_ tell each other how we feel, and we _didn't_ actually kiss," Chelsea pointed out. "And you said Vaughn was acting like something was bothering him. What if he wishes it didn't happen? If this was a good thing, wouldn't he be here right now—or at least not be acting like something was wrong?"

"Vaughn is basically the hardest person to read on the face of the planet, Chelsea," Julia said, rolling her eyes. "He's probably just, I don't know, feeling awkward or something."

"But that's just it," Chelsea sighed, looking up sadly. "Why would he feel awkward if he wasn't trying to figure out how to reject me?"

"Because he's antisocial and has probably never really felt this way before?" Julia replied, raising her eyebrows. She placed a hand on Chelsea's shoulder. "Besides, why on earth would he reject you?"

"I'm not as happy as I used to be, Jules," Chelsea shrugged. "I mean, I'm getting better, but after what happened in the city—"

"_What_ happened in the city?"

Chelsea stopped and really noticed Julia's worried expression. She hadn't told her about what had happened—she'd kept the explanation to a minimum, saying that Daisy had passed away and she needed to go clear her head. She said she'd just forgotten to leave a note, which was true—but for some reason it still felt like a lie.

She didn't particularly want to talk about that night in the rain, just because Chelsea had been so afraid and so broken. She wanted to forget it had ever happened. Bringing it up again just made her feel upset.

But she had to tell Julia.

"You know that Daisy—passed away." Chelsea started, focusing on her hands that she was wringing in front of her.

Julia nodded. "You were going away to clear your head for a little while."

"I was going back to Mineral Town, back to my parents. For good."

* * *

**Not super exciting, and a little too angsty than what I was hoping for, but eh, I'll work it. Next chapter will be out soon! Review and let me know what you think of Chelsea's insecurities-do you think she's justified, or is she just being silly?**


	55. So Far

**Woop. Time to release this bad boy. I hope you like it as much as you can...**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1230  
_

_Date Updated: 5-24-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 745_

* * *

Julia furrowed her eyebrows. "You were leaving?"

"I was confused and I panicked. My crops had just all failed, you and your mom had left for the city, Vaughn and I were fighting, and then I—I found Daisy—I didn't know what else to do, so I ran. My passage switched boats at the city, but when I got there in the middle of the night, they said the Mineral Town passage was postponed until morning. I didn't have any money left over, but it was still a few hours until sunrise and it was dark and cold and raining." Chelsea stopped there, recollecting her thoughts, so many emotions threatening to just spill out. Everything was a jumble in her head.

"What did you do?" Julia prompted gently.

"I just waited for a little while. And then there was this man—and he started to follow me, and I ran away from him but he still caught up—and he hit me," she paused, looking up at Julia with troubled, dry eyes. "Julia, he was going to hurt me—_really_ hurt me."

Julia swallowed, shaking her head. She put her arms around Chelsea's shoulders. She didn't know what to say, so she just let Chelsea continue on her own.

"I tried to fight him, and I don't really remember what happened exactly, but the next thing I knew, Vaughn was there," she smiled slightly. "He punched the guy hard in the jaw, and then the man ran away." She let out a laugh at the memory. "He saved me, Julia."

Julia shook her head in disbelief, unable to stop the smile from breaking across her face. "I can't believe it. Vaughn really makes himself seem so awful, but he's really a good guy. I definitely misjudged him."

"A lot of people do," Chelsea laughed, returning her friend's hug. "But now I'm afraid I'm going to lose him."

"I don't see why those things would make him not like you," Julia said, releasing the farmer and raising her eyebrows. "If anything, I think it shows how much he really does care."

"Well, it was mainly after that, when we went back to his apartment and I was a pathetic, empty mess of tears and self-pity."

"Oh," Julia nodded. "Well, I think you were justified in feeling that way, and I'm sure Vaughn understands."

"I hope so," Chelsea shook her head. "But I feel like he's avoiding me."

"Go find him," Julia said matter-of-factly, shrugging. "Don't _let_ him avoid you."

"And what do I do when I find him?" Chelsea said, frowning. What _was_ there to do?

"I don't know, kiss him?" Julia said, entirely serious.

"You're kidding," Chelsea said, laughing humorlessly. "And what if he doesn't want me to?"

"Trust me, he does," Julia smirked. "Just go find him and plant one on him."

"I feel like there's a better way to go about it," Chelsea muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, don't kiss him," Julia sighed. "But you could just ask him if he likes you. Just be really up front about it. I think you two are having communication problems or something and it's a real shame because you two should be together by now."

"That's an understatement," Chelsea smiled. "But you're right—I should just go talk to him."

"That's my girl," Julia teased, smirking. "Go get him! It's already three and his boat leaves at sundown."

Chelsea nodded and hurried down the path towards town.

Julia watched her go, shaking her head. "It's about damn time those two got together. If their lives were a book, I swear they'd be over fifty chapters into it by now."

**Ooo**

"Ugh, where _is_ he?" Chelsea muttered to herself, walking onto the sand of the beach. She'd checked Mirabelle's, the forest, the Diner, and Vaughn was nowhere to be found. Now she was on the beach and the sun was slowly sinking down the horizon, painting the sky in oranges and reds. She could even make out his boat in the distance.

And yet again, Vaughn was nowhere to be seen.

She sat down on the sand, her chin in her hands. She was so close to giving up. He was clearly avoiding her and she was setting herself up for failure. What was she going to do if their next encounter ruined their friendship—let alone any chance for a _relationship_—forever?

She sighed and buried her hands in the warm sand. This was so complicated.

**Ooo**

Vaughn hurried down the path from Chelsea's farm, which was still deserted. Where was she?

He'd made up his mind to just man up and tell her about her parents in Forget-Me-Not. It would be wrong to keep it from her, and he had no real reason to avoid it anyway. Sure, he still didn't know how to deal with the impending-kiss-situation, but he knew they wouldn't be able to go very long without acknowledging it, so he just had to get it out of the way.

The only problem now was that Chelsea was _gone_. She wasn't on her farm, she wasn't anywhere near the Diner or the Café or the Inn. He'd even checked the forest, but she wasn't there.

He heard the horn of his boat sound out at the beach.

Shit, was it already here?

He ran back to Mirabelle's and grabbed his bag from the guest bedroom, not realizing he'd left his hat on the bed. He hurried down to the beach, glancing around for a red bandana anywhere in town.

"Last call for Flowerbud Village!" The speaker announced.

Vaughn grimaced. Maybe he could call Mirabelle and ask to talk to Chelsea after he got back to the city.

He hurried down the dock, rummaging through his pockets for his ticket.

"Vaughn!"

His ears perked up at the sound of that familiar voice over the waves. He looked up and saw the red bandana moving down the beach towards the dock.

She was _here_ the whole time?

"Ticket, sir," the man at the dock prompted Vaughn.

"Uh," Vaughn hesitated, looking back up at the farmer, who was almost at the dock.

"We're scheduled to leave a minute ago, sir," the man said again, clearly impatient. "If you're riding, we need your ticket."

"One minute," Vaughn said to the man.

"We're _behind_," the man said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm going to have to ask you to board now or exit the dock."

"Vaughn—wait," Chelsea called from the bottom of the dock. "We need to talk!"

Vaughn looked between the panting farmer and the irritated ticket man. He couldn't miss this passage to Flowerbud—he was already on thin ice with his boss from all his sales report mistakes. But he really didn't want to leave Chelsea…

"That's it," The ticket man began to walk back on to the ship. "We're leaving."

Vaughn scowled and, giving Chelsea what he hoped was a very apologetic look, he boarded the ship. As the boat started away from the dock, he saw Chelsea slow as she reached the edge.

"Vaughn?" She yelled, her voice barely audible above the waves and the motor of the ship.

"Next week," Vaughn shouted back, but he wasn't sure if she heard him.

She was just close enough that he could make out her expression. He hoped he was seeing it wrong.

She looked so _hurt_.

* * *

**Aw, shucks. That sucks. We'll see how this pans out...**

**On a different note, I graduate tomorrow morning. Today I have an awards ceremony and a baccalaureate mass (Catholic school), and then Sunday I'm having a huge grad party. Then on Tuesday I'm flying out to Alabama for orientation, and I'll be there for six days. Basically, I'm going to have to just find some time this weekend or, more likely, Monday, and write up the next couple chapters because I won't have another opportunity to write for almost two weeks, and I don't want to leave you guys hanging for that long.**

**If you're bummed about how this chapter ended, just remember: it'll be worth it in the end! I have a plan ;)**


	56. Next Week

**A little later than I was hoping, but goodness, have I been busy! I'm back from orientation and psyched for college. Wooo!**

**Enjoy!**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1220  
_

_Date Updated: 6-6-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 754_

* * *

"And then he just _left_," Chelsea finished, leaning her chin in her hands on the counter at Mirabelle's.

Julia shook her head, turning the story over in her mind for the twentieth time since it had happened almost a week ago. "It just doesn't make sense, Chels."

"You're telling me," the farmer rolled her eyes. "He yelled something to me from the boat when he was kind of far away."

"What did he say?" Julia asked, surprised at this new piece of information. Chelsea had told her the story of last Thursday dozens of times in the last six days, but this had never come up.

She shrugged lamely. "I couldn't hear him over the waves."

"Well, does it really even matter what he said?" Julia asked, smiling. "He tried to talk to you! He _wasn't_ avoiding you, Chels."

"How do you figure that?" Chelsea asked, sitting up straight. She pulled her bandana off her head and worked it nervously in her hands. "He ran onto the boat even when he clearly saw me."

"But think about this for a second. If Vaughn was really avoiding you, would he go out of his way to yell something from the boat? Hell, I wouldn't expect him to yell from the boat even if he wasn't avoiding you."

Chelsea blinked. "That's actually… totally true."

"Could you maybe see his facial expression? Partially lip-read what he was saying?" Julia probed. She wanted to know what the cowboy had said almost as much as Chelsea did.

Chelsea closed her eyes and exhaled, trying to put herself back on the edge of the dock. "It was short. Maybe one or two words."

"Yeah? What else?" Julia pressed, leaning in.

Chelsea hesitated, her eyes opening again. "I don't know. I feel like it had a _W_ in it."

"_W_?" Julia repeated. "One or two words, with a _W_… 'Wait'?"

Chelsea shook her head. "Longer than that."

Julia and Chelsea spent the next five minutes making _W_ sounds and occasionally throwing out a word that may have been partially possible, but Chelsea shot them all down.

"What about…" Julia hesitated, "'week'?"

"'Week'?" Chelsea repeated, trying to place it in her memory of Vaughn's mouth. "That… actually could work. As the second word," she paused again, then, suddenly, she cried, "'Next week'!"

"'Next week'," Julia smiled. "Well, there you go. He was probably being hassled by that jerk of a ticket guy or something and had to get on the boat."

"That actually makes perfect sense," Chelsea said, her face breaking out into a huge smile. "He wasn't avoiding me after all! Julia, he might still actually like me!"

"Chelsea," Julia shook her head, smiling. "Of course he still likes you. Tomorrow he'll tell you himself."

**Ooo**

Tomorrow arrived and he didn't tell her himself.

"What do you mean, 'storms'?" Chelsea asked Mirabelle as she felt her stomach grip tightly.

"Sorry, Chels," the homely woman shrugged, offering a sympathetic smile. "Vaughn won't be here this week. His company called on his behalf early this morning."

"He didn't call himself?" Julia asked, overhearing this part of the conversation. "That's weird. _He_ usually calls if he's going to be late or not make it."

"I don't know, Darlin'," Mirabelle shrugged again, picking up a bag of feed. "I've got to go feed the chickens. You two stay out of trouble."

Chelsea felt like she was sinking. She'd been up half the night working out all the different ways that she would greet Vaughn. She even considered just running up and kissing him—but that was a very short-lived consideration.

It didn't matter now, though. She had another full week to agonize over the whole situation.

**Ooo**

Chelsea brushed her hair back from her face, trying to ignore the strands that stuck to her skin from the sweat. The early summer air was thin and hot.

She found it strange that there were supposed to be awful storms going around, and yet there wasn't a cloud in the sky above Sunny Island.

Sighing, she set down her watering can and fell back onto the ground. Her legs were sore from the last week's worth of farming, but somehow it seemed to be paying off—her crops looked like they'd be ready for harvesting the next day, and they actually looked healthy.

She was finally figuring out how this farming business worked.

Her stomach let out a loud growl and she realized she hadn't eaten all day. Since she knew her crops weren't going to be ready for a while because of the late start she'd had on the season, she'd been gathering and shipping herbs and flowers, saving up enough money for something inexpensive from the Diner every day. She'd felt bad taking free food from Mirabelle and Julia all this time.

Readjusting the bandana on her head, Chelsea pulled herself up and started down the path into town as the sun cast its golden rays onto the island.

**Ooo**

"I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I. Are you sure?"

"Aboslutely positive!"

Chelsea sat on a stool at the Diner, trying not to totally inhale her noodles. She liked coming to the Diner in the evenings because so many people were always there and there was so much gossip to eavesdrop on. She wasn't one to participate, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't like to hear what scandalous occurrences were supposedly going on.

"Did you hear about that ship?"

"Which ship?"

Chelsea sighed. And here she had almost forgotten about her situation with Vaughn.

"The one that went down off the coast of the island this morning."

Chelsea gasped and started choking on some of the noodles in her mouth. She coughed and dropped her fork, drawing some attention to her as it rattled loudly.

Denny and Lanna hurried over to her. "Are you alright, Chelsea?"

She took a moment to cough her way back into normalcy and nodded slowly. "I… I think so."

"Good," Lanna said, smiling. "You almost died!"

Chelsea ignored her and looked between her two friends. "What was that you were saying about a boat going down?"

Denny blinked, confused at the farmer's sudden intensity. "You mean the passenger ferry?"

Chelsea felt her jaw go slack.

"Apparently a passenger ship went out early this morning before the official weather report came in. It hit a bad storm out on the waters before it could reach the island. It went down."

"Who was on it?" Chelsea asked, her mouth going dry.

"Not very many people. Apparently most everyone already knew about the storms. But there was the crew and maybe a dozen others."

"Have they found any of them?"

"Almost all of the crew has been recovered," Lanna piped in. "In fact, I think they're still just looking for a couple passengers."

Chelsea just blinked. That was all she could do.

"Are you alright, Chelsea?" Denny asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," Chelsea said, standing up abruptly. Her voice was tight. "I just remembered—I have to, uh, water my crops."

She hurried past them and wove her way out into the warm night. All she could think about was that Vaughn had better show up on the dock next week or—

Well, she didn't know what she'd do.

* * *

**Well jeez. Isn't this just perfect? Pffft storms. Review and let me know what you think will happen next chapter!**


	57. No Answer

**So I know this really great guy and these last few weeks have been a mixture of heart-shattering sadness and fly-to-the-moon happiness. Sufficient to say, I was a little bit sidetracked and got a tad behind on this fic.**

**Isn't it just so funny how you finally get a good guy right when you really can't be together? No? Yeah, I didn't think so either.**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1425  
_

_Date Updated: 6-17-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 765_

* * *

Chelsea yanked a stubborn tomato off of the vine and put it in the basket with the others. She'd been harvesting all day and she was still barely making a dent in her tomato crops. On one hand, this was a good thing because she would make a good amount of money—certainly at least enough to pay Chen back and then maybe get some corn seeds.

On the other hand, though, she was way too distracted to work efficiently enough to actually get everything shipped by nightfall.

She took the last tomato off of the last plant of the first plot. She'd gotten a late start after accidentally sleeping in, sure—but it had still taken her until after five to just finish harvesting one plot. At this rate, she wouldn't be done until close to midnight.

She didn't usually work this slowly. Her mind was just all over the place.

Vaughn was probably fine. There were only two missing people out from that shipwreck, and even though she didn't know that they weren't him—what were the odds of him actually going out on the boat when there was going to be bad storms? And besides, his company had called to say he wouldn't see there.

But then it was also strange that he hadn't called to say that.

And it was also noteworthy that there had been absolutely no word from him in over a week. No calls, no letters. It was like he was gone.

Chelsea shook her head and wiped at her forehead. That was nonsense. He wasn't gone. And besides, he would call if something bad had happened. He was probably fine.

**Ooo**

The next day was a Saturday. Chelsea had finished all her harvesting and slept in again.

There was no word from Vaughn even though he would be back at his apartment in the city.

"Morning, Chelsea," Julia said as the farmer walked into the animal shop. The blonde surveyed her friend's sluggish appearance. "Jeez, you look like you didn't sleep at all."

Chelsea just shrugged. "I was up late harvesting and had trouble staying asleep for very long."

Julia gave Chelsea an understanding smile. "He's fine, Chelsea. If you want you can call him on our phone to make sure."

Chelsea perked up at the idea. She was so past the awkward phase she'd been stuck in last week—at this point, she just needed to hear his voice and make sure he was alright. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Julia laughed. She picked up the phone and grabbed a phone book. "Here, his number's right there."

"Thanks," Chelsea smiled and found Vaughn's name in the hundreds of city listings. She took a deep breath and dialed before putting the phone up to her ear.

It rang, and it rang again. It seemed to just keep ringing. After a dozen rings or so, Chelsea realized he didn't have an answering machine, so she hung up.

She met Julia's concerned gaze. "No answer. He must… not be home."

"Yeah," Julia nodded. "You can try again tomorrow."

**Ooo**

Tomorrow came and she tried again.

"Any luck?" Julia asked, but she already knew the answer as Chelsea set the phone back down on the counter.

"He's probably just really busy," Chelsea said, mostly to herself. "He probably has lots of errands to run—right?"

"Definitely," Julia nodded enthusiastically, severely overcompensating.

Chelsea looked out the window at the fading summer light, trying not to notice her friend's obvious attempt to make her feel better. "It's getting pretty late. I should head home."

"Aren't you going to go to the Diner?" Julia asked, pursing her lips. Chelsea had been working all day and the blonde doubted that she'd stopped at all to eat.

"I'm not hungry," Chelsea said absently as she shook her head.

"But Chels," Julia said, frowning. "You really have to eat—especially considering how much work you've been doing."

"I'm fine," she mumbled, still looking out the window.

Julia sighed. "Chelsea, didn't you promise Vaughn you'd take care of yourself?"

"What?" Chelsea looked at her now, her eyes cloudy. "You're saying it like he's—I don't know, like he's _dead_ or—something."

Julia shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant. I just meant that he's going to be really mad if—_when_ he comes back and sees you emaciated and half-dead."

Chelsea was silent for several moments. Finally, she stood up. "I should go. I'm tired."

"Alright," Julia said, standing as well. She walked her to the door. "Goodnight, Chels. See you tomorrow."

Chelsea nodded and walked through the twilight to her farm, leaving Julia in the doorway of the animal shop.

Julia's eyebrows knit together in concern. "That girl is going to run herself into the ground."

"Julia, honey, close the door—you'll let the bugs inside."

"Yes, Ma," Julia said, walking back inside. She leaned against the refrigerator in the kitchen, watching her mother put the last of the dishes away. "Ma, I'm worried about Chelsea."

Mirabelle nodded. "Poor girl has been through so much these last few weeks."

"And now with Vaughn gone MIA, she's all but stopped functioning," Julia looked up at the ceiling helplessly. "She's going to starve herself or work into exhaustion at this rate."

"I'll make her a box lunch and you can take it to her tomorrow," Mirabelle said, giving her daughter a warm pat on the arm. "I'll fix her a peanut butter and honey sandwich. She won't be able to resist."

Julia smiled halfheartedly, but shook her head. "It's not that she doesn't have food—she has some money now from the harvest. She's just not eating."

Mirabelle stopped and folded up a washcloth, shifting the bulk of her attention to her daughter. "She really is worried about Vaughn, isn't she?"

"Ma," Julia shook her head, "she's totally in love with the guy. She hasn't heard from him in a week and a half. The boat he was supposed to be on sunk. Of _course_ she's worried."

"Well, when you put it like that, I'd be worried, too," Mirabelle nodded, turning her gaze to the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Do you think Vaughn is alright?" Julia asked after several moments, breaking one silence and creating one that was even thicker.

After a while, Mirabelle sighed and looked down. "He's probably fine, Julia. We're all just a little paranoid right now."

**Ooo**

Chelsea tossed around in her bed, her blankets tangling between her legs and her clothes sticking to her body with sweat. It had been a long, hot summer night spent mostly with nightmares reliving her own shipwreck experience, or laying away in the darkness imagining how Vaughn's went.

But now the sun was creeping up over the horizon and dimly lighting her dusty farmhouse. She rolled herself onto the floor and wobbled, her vision going black momentarily and her head feeling light. She steadied herself on the edge of her table until she felt more stable and changed into her work clothes for the day.

It was Wednesday morning. Vaughn should be showing up sometime in the late morning, if the boats were on time.

Half of her was a strange mixture of relief and hope, looking forward to the promise of at least _seeing_ him again. The other half was dreading the thing that made her stomach church and her heart beat uncomfortable fast—that she _wouldn't_ be seeing him again.

But it wasn't even six in the morning yet and she had chores to do before it was even remotely time for his ferry to come in.

Heaving a deep sigh, Chelsea marched into the already-warm, mid-summer morning and broke out her watering can. Her muscles screamed with every crop she wetted, but she pushed on. She thought it was strange that she's been working so hard on the farm yet, instead of gaining muscle, she seemed to be thinning out all over. In fact, she was starting to look positively gaunt.

She finished her watering as quickly as her arms would allow and made herself pull a few weeds from around her crops despite her body's protests. By the time she'd finished, it was barely after nine and she felt almost ready to pass out.

Taking in a deep, warm breath of summer air, she forced her legs to carry her down to the beach, where she plopped down on the sand by the dock and fixed her gaze out on the horizon, waiting for that familiar black dot to appear.

It never did.

* * *

**Moral of the story is that love sucks. I'll bet Chelsea would agree with me right now. Let's hear some encouraging reviews because everyone can use some encouragement every now and again, yeah?**


	58. Never

**This guy is really little. Trust me, I tried to make it longer, but this was the best I could do. Sorry it took so long, too. Remember that guy I mentioned in my last author's note? Yeah, well, I got to see him a couple days ago, which also meant that I got to say goodbye to him for good. Woooo. And before that I was going through a really tough time, so it was hard to get myself to write. But I did it!**

**Here's to more frequent updates and maybe a little bit more happy things in life!**

**P.S. Over 100k words! You guys have read a looooot of fanfic to get here, haha.**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1107  
_

_Date Updated: 7-6-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 786_

* * *

Julia hurried down the path into the darkened town. Chelsea wasn't at her house or anywhere else on her farm. She hadn't come into the shop at all that day, either. She had disappeared and Julia wasn't having it.

"Chelsea!" Julia called as she emerged onto the beach. There was no reply, but the blonde saw a dark figure slumped over on the sand near the waves. She sighed, recognizing the frail outline.

Chelsea didn't move as her friend sat down next to her on the sand.

"Chels, it's really late," Julia said, gently putting her hand on the farmer's bony arm. "You have to go home now."

"He's not here," Chelsea hiccupped, her face still facing the ground. It was covered by a veil of stringy chestnut hair. "Vaughn's gone."

Julia shook her head, put her arm around Chelsea. "You don't know that, Chels. He'll be here tomorrow."

"They still haven't found those two people missing from the shipwreck," Chelsea said quietly, her voice hoarse. She finally looked up at Julia. "He's not going to be here tomorrow, Julia."

Julia blinked. The intensity in Chelsea's gaze struck her—it was so different from the fading cloudiness they'd shown the last week. But this change wasn't necessarily a good one. Chelsea's eyes were so incredibly _sad_. Flashes of hopelessness, desperation, and regret were all swimming in the blue. She was saying so much more than what she actually said.

Chelsea blinked and two hot tears rolled down her cheeks. He was gone. Vaughn was really not coming back. She couldn't really wrap her mind around it. He'd saved her life so many times—she couldn't even come close to returning the favor. But oh, did she wish that she could have.

Now, she was never going to see him again. She would never see that rare smile of his that she loved so much, or hear his rumbling chuckle that she'd barely heard any of already. She wouldn't get to feel his arms around her ever again, and she'd never see him roll his eyes when she tripped. She'd never hear his irritated drawl. She'd never be able to finally kiss him.

He would never know how she felt.

She looked up into the cloudy, dark night. Why couldn't it have been her? She would trade places with him in a heartbeat. If she'd died in her shipwreck, then there wouldn't have been a farm on the island, and Vaughn would never have been on that boat.

He would still be alive.

She inhaled sharply and felt the tears pour out of her, shaking her tiny frame.

Julia tried to comfort her by rubbing her back, and then just hugging her. She really couldn't think of anything else to say. As much as she hated to think about it, Chelsea was probably right at this point—Vaughn wasn't coming back.

Julia blinked as tears pricked at her eyes. She'd miss that damn cowboy, too.

**Ooo**

Riley pulled the spare key to Vaughn's apartment out of his pocket and used it to open the door. He walked inside, the air shifting noticeably at the intrusion. Everything still had its familiar layer of dust settling over the top.

He finished surveying the room and heaved a sigh. It was so lonely here recently. Riley moved over to the futon and sat down, noiselessly watching the dust particles move around in the streaming Sunday sunlight of the window.

The phone began to ring. It was the third time this week, which was strange, since Vaughn's phone usually never rang. He didn't feel that it was his place to answer it, so he let it ring until it stopped just like he'd done the last two times.

Only this time, it just kept ringing and ringing.

Riley rolled his eyes and walked over, the shrill noise getting the best of him. He picked the phone off of the receiver and spoke.

"Hello?"

"Riley, damn it. Why didn't you answer sooner?" A familiar drawl growled from the phone.

"I'm sorry man," Riley laughed. "I didn't think you'd want me answering your phone. How's Flowerbud treating you? It's been—what? Two weeks of storms?"

"Two and a half. I'm goin' insane, Riley."

"Well, the phone lines seem to be working again. Does that mean the storms have stopped?"

"Yeah, the ferries start up tonight. I'll be back by tomorrow. Thanks for watching my place for me."

"Don't mention it, man. Your apartment is _way_ better than mine—and that's saying something."

Vaughn snorted into the receiver.

"So, I guess you're not heading back to Forget-Me-Not tomorrow?"

"Hell no," Vaughn said. "That's the last place I want to be. Well, naw. Flowerbud is the last place I want to be."

"And what's the first place?"

"I need to get back to that Island, Riley."

"I thought so."

The sound of a muffled male voice came through the receiver, then Vaughn's voice once again. "I've gotta go, Riley. Thanks again."

"Alright man, take care."

The call ended with a click.

Riley sat back down on the futon. Vaughn better get back to that island soon, or Chelsea would have moved on.

He sat up suddenly, an idea striking him.

Those two needed to get together, and he knew just how to do it.

All he needed were a few more vacation days.

**Ooo**

Gray walked into the lobby of the Inn at Forget-Me-Not, meeting his wife at the counter.

"Any luck?" She asked him, her eyebrows raised.

"No," Gray sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "That Vaughn guy must be a real coward for him to not show up here two weeks in a row after meeting you."

"Now, Gray," Claire pursed her lips. "Don't jump to conclusions. You know this has been a really active storm season. He could have just been unable to travel."

Gray's eye twitched. "So he's just staying with our daughter, wherever that is?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "There you go, jumping to conclusions again."

"Where else would he be?" Gray asked, crossing his arms.

"Gray, really," Claire frowned. "You're acting ridiculous. We don't know enough to even begin to speculate. Besides, Chelsea likes him, so he's probably a wonderful young man."

"I don't trust him," Gray grumbled, pulling his hat down.

Claire plucked his hat off of his head and put her hands on her hips. "You need to have a better attitude, mister."

"You need to give me my damn hat back, woman."

Claire glared at him and he glared back, but neither of them could keep it up for very long. They were both too tired.

* * *

**And there you have it. What do you think about this little twist? Review and tell me if you thought Vaughn was actually dead or not! ...What a morbid subject, haha.**


	59. Hope

**Time really does fly in summer, doesn't it? This one is longer than most of the last ones! I'm getting excited! Also, it's ridiculously late and I'm not sure if there are some crazy typos in here or not, but please bear with me! I wanted to get this out to y'all.**

**P.S. AHHHHH 800 REVIEWS. You guys complete me.**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1531  
_

_Date Updated: 7-18-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 806  
_

* * *

Vaughn sat down on his futon, only to stand right back up again and resume pacing around his apartment.

It was a Wednesday morning. He wasn't on Sunny Island and he hated that, Goddess help him.

"Vaughn, man, relax," Riley said, watching the agitated cowboy from the kitchenette. "You haven't even been back a full day. Aren't you tired?"

"Of course I'm _tired_, Riley," Vaughn spat. "Those were longest two weeks of my life."

"Two and a half weeks," Riley amended, ignoring Vaughn's icy glare.

Vaughn wiped his hand across his forehead, sighing deeply. He hadn't spoken to Chelsea since he had to get on that boat and she was running after him. The last time he'd seen her, he'd hurt her.

He frowned as he remembered that jarred look in her perfect blue eyes. He should have just stayed on the island and caught the next ferry out. He should have told that ticket guy that was hassling him to screw himself. He should have done anything else but what he'd done.

Now it had been almost three weeks since he'd had any sort of contact with her and he was going crazy. He hadn't thought he was all that attached to her until he started missing things about her that he didn't even notice when she was around. He missed the way her nose crinkled up when she laughed. He missed the way her freckles shifted when she smiled at him. She missed how she had to skip a little to keep up with him when he walked. He missed her stupid, meaningless stories about the townspeople and the goings-on of the previous week on the island. He missed the way her lips parted when she was surprised. He missed how she overreacted to everything. He missed how she always listened to him, even when he had nothing to say.

He missed her—everything about her—and he didn't think he could manage being away from her for another day.

After a moment's silence, Riley shook his head. "You know, man, you don't have to wait until the boss tells you to go to the island. You could just buy a ticket and _go_."

Vaughn stopped in his tracks.

He hadn't thought about that.

Riley watched as an uncharacteristically frantic Vaughn threw some clothes into a bag and raced out the door towards the docks. He pushed off the counter and called after him. "Hold on man, I'm coming too!"

**Ooo**

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I know it's been a really long time since I wrote to you. I'm sorry. Things have just been really hectic. I didn't want to worry you guys before, and I still don't, but I have to tell you what's been going on because I don't know who else to turn to._

_Daisy died. And my crops all failed. Vaughn and I were fighting over something stupid, and Julia and her mom were away on business. I didn't know what to do, and I was so sad, and I missed you guys so much, so I just spent all my money on a boat back to Mineral Town and ran away. Again. But there was a big storm when I got to the city to change boats, and I had nowhere to go and no money and it was the middle of the night and I was so scared. Something really bad almost happened, but somehow Vaughn found me and everything was okay._

_And then I decided not to give up so easily. I still missed you guys, but I didn't want to quit._

_Anyway, everything was okay, but then there was a storm and Vaughn's boat went down. I don't know where he is. It's been weeks and I haven't heard anything from him. I don't know what to think anymore, and Julia has been trying to help but nothing seems to make me feel better. And then I remembered how you guys always made me feel better, so I decided to write to you._

_I love you guys._

_Chelsea XOXO_

**Ooo**

Claire sank down into a chair at the kitchen table, reading and rereading the newest letter from her daughter. She tried to avoid smudging the ink anymore than it already was. Chelsea had clearly been crying when she wrote this, and now Claire was crying as she read it.

"My poor baby," Claire choked out, shaking her head. She was aching to be with her daughter and comfort her—really, physically aching. Chelsea had always been so fragile, and it seemed like the world had just been beating her to a pulp. She _needed_ to protect her.

Claire heard the front door open followed by the heavy footsteps of her husband. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He froze, taking in the scene in front of his: his wife crying over a letter at the kitchen table.

He knew who it had to be from.

"What does it say, Claire?" Gray asked, hurrying over. "What's wrong?"

His mind jumped from horrific scenario to horrific scenario, playing out all the horrible things that could have happened to his daughter. Most of them involved that damn cowboy. Chelsea trusted him too much—and she was so naïve—

Claire interrupted his thoughts by shaking her head and handing him the damp paper, trying to compose herself.

He read over every word, trying to take in all of the information. He could feel his heart breaking for his little girl with every word.

After he finished reading the entire letter for the third time, he tossed it onto the table, sitting down next to his wife. A thick silence filled the room, only broken by Claire's occasional sniffling.

"What—" Claire hiccupped, "what do you think she meant by 'something really bad'?"

Gray sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. He didn't want to think about it. "Exactly what she said, I guess. Something really bad."

Silence fell over them again, each of them trying to decide what that meant to them.

"Our poor baby," Claire whimpered out, willing herself not to break down again. "I can't even imagine—Gray, she can't handle all of that stress. And with Vaughn gone…"

Gray couldn't think of anything to say. As much as he hated Vaughn, he knew that his daughter had lost someone close to her and he hated to think of her being upset. That damned Vaughn guy had upset her, Gray thought, scowling slightly.

Gray was pulled from his accusatory thoughts by the sound of his wife's soft sobs. He sighed, pulling his chair right next to hers. He placed his arms around her and pulled her into him. "Claire, she'll be fine."

The blonde shook her head, wiping at her eyes. "Gray, she's got to be hurting _so_ _badly_—I just—I want to be there with her."

"I do too," he sighed again, closing his eyes. "At least we know she's alright."

"But is she really?" Claire asked, pulling away from him slightly. "Gray, Chelsea is so sensitive and young and—she's never been through anything his hard before. I don't know that she's alright."

Gray swallowed. His wife was usually the optimistic one, and if even _she_ thought Chelsea may not be alright, then he knew something had to be done. He stood up. "Claire, we need to do something."

"Like what?" She asked, standing up as well. She wiped at her red, puffy eyes. "What is there to do?"

"She can't be far, if that Vaughn guy visited her and Forget-Me-Not. We could probably figure out where she is."

Claire blinked. She hadn't thought about that.

She nodded once, a small smile on her face. They were going to find their daughter.

**Ooo**

Chelsea sat on the floor of her dirty farmhouse. She had finished her chores for the day and had fallen into her usual routine of hiding out in her house until it was dark enough out to go to sleep.

It was still midmorning. She had a long while to wait until she could go to sleep.

She sighed, remembering the letter she'd sent to her parents. She probably shouldn't have sent it. It would just worry them. But she really did want them to know what was going on—even if she couldn't hear their advice.

She'd debated telling them where she was. The main thing that kept her here was Vaughn, after all, and now…

She shook her head. She couldn't leave the island. Not now.

As stupid as it was, she couldn't help but hold onto a little light of hope that maybe he was alright. Maybe there were some extraordinary circumstances that had kept him away for nearly a season. Maybe there was an explanation and he was totally fine.

She swallowed hard, her vision going blurry again with another round of tears. Who was she kidding? He was gone. He had to be. But her damn optimistic self had to go hoping for the impossible. She was expecting a miracle, and until she had some concrete evidence that Vaughn really was never coming back, she would hope.

Hope was all she had.

* * *

**Well, I suppose we'll see what happens next chapter! I'm moving in 20 days, so expect sporadic updates during the next month or so. Thanks for sticking with me, and thanks for your lovely reviews They make me so happy (:**


	60. The Violet Hour

**Aaaand I'm alive! Barely. Moral of the story: college is very time-consuming, especially when you're taking 21 hours of classes, working a part-time job, and living a full social life. Leaves no time for sleeping. Or fanfiction. Whoops. Hopefully I'll fall into a rhythm again!**

**P.S. First update of my college career!**

**P.P.S. omg guys i have boyfriend and he's a nerd too and it's fantastic**

_CHAPTER STATS_

_Word Count (excluding A/N): 1617  
_

_Date Updated: 10-6-13  
_

_Current Review Count: 829_

* * *

Chelsea woke up to the sound of knocking at her front door. She sighed and forced herself to get out of her almost-comfortable bed, her feet aching under her weight as she walked across the cold floor. The sun was just creeping up over the horizon, painting stripes of cool blue light across her barren house. The days were already getting shorter with the end of summer and the approaching fall.

Without even stopping to think about her disheveled appearance—which was something she'd stopped considering weeks ago—Chelsea pulled open her door. Taro stood there in front of her, his little eyes not quite as harsh as they usually were. His eyebrows tugged together when he saw her empty expression.

"Good morning, Chelsea," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

"Morning, Taro," Chelsea said, her voice void of feeling. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to let you know that the fireworks festival that was scheduled for tonight is cancelled on account of a storm off the coast. It may hit the island, too, so you may want to—" he caught himself before he said 'put your animals inside'—"be aware."

Chelsea just nodded and gave no real sign that she comprehended what she'd just been told.

Taro shook his head at her slightly but didn't bother pressing her for information. She'd had the entire island worried sick, but it was worthless to try to talk to her about it at this point. If Julia couldn't even get her to open up, she wouldn't talk to anyone else.

**Ooo**

Riley woke up with the sunrise on the deck of the last passenger ferry to leave for Sunny Island. He and Vaughn had barely made it—but when Vaughn was committed to something, he was going to do it. He was stubborn like that.

Riley sat up and glanced around, quickly spotting his friend awake and leaning against the railing, looking out over the ocean. The skies were clear and the morning was crisp. The sea breeze whipped around the upper deck, threatening to swipe Vaughn's hat off of his head.

Somehow, Vaughn wouldn't care if his hat did fly away. He wouldn't care if he lost everything he came with, as long as he could just get to Sunny Island. He took in a deep breath of salty sea air, letting it fill his lungs as bite at his throat. As he exhaled, he saw Chelsea's expression again as he sailed away the last time—he saw all the hurt, the betrayal, the sadness.

He cursed under his breath. She didn't want to see him.

There was no way that she could miss him after what he'd done. Hell, she didn't even have to miss him—he just hoped that she would bear to let him be in her presence. He'd be lucky if she could stand that. He certainly didn't deserve it.

The worst part, he realized, was that he had no idea how to even begin making it up to her. The last three weeks had done nothing but clarify and intensify his feelings for her. He loved her so much. It was overwhelming how much he needed her. A year ago, he would have punched a guy for telling him that he would be reduced to this pathetically-sentimental state of dependency—and for him to be dependent on her, of all people! Chelsea, the super-klutz. The girl who drove him crazy.

He smiled at himself. What the hell? He was absolutely at her mercy. He depended entirely on her for his happiness—his happiness! He was happy!—and yet he wasn't upset about it. He'd lost his independence, his stoicism, his entire outlook on life, and he was fine with it. In fact, he was damn happy.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

Now, if only he could think of what to say to her when the boat finally made it to that damn island.

**Ooo**

The day went slowly and void of meaning for Chelsea, which was not unusual these days. She tended to her crops, thought vaguely about maybe eating a few shrubs she walked past, and then went back to her farmhouse. She knew she needed to eat more to fuel the kind of field work she'd been doing, but she just couldn't get herself to. She was usually too fatigued to forage for food, anyway.

Today, however, she felt a little different. After sitting in her house for a few hours, she mustered up the strength and the willpower to wander aimlessly around the island. Or maybe she'd just go visit Julia. Julia had been wanting to talk to her for a while, and even if Chelsea had nothing to say, she would still go be with her friend.

Slowly, Chelsea made her way off her farmland, cringing as her aching muscles screamed from the physical exertion.

**Ooo**

The ferry's whistle let out a long, loud gust as the vessel departed from Sunny Island. Vaughn didn't stay at the dock long enough to watch it go. As soon as his boots hit the sand of the beach, he was almost running up the path into town.

Riley watched him go. As much as he'd love to see his and Chelsea's reunion—and oh, what a reunion it was sure to be—he knew that they would want some privacy.

Also, there was a certain blonde that Riley wanted to spend a little more time with.

**Ooo**

Vaughn made it straight to Chelsea's farm without running into anyone in town. This was surprising, considering it was the middle of the day and usually incredibly busy. On the other hand, the weather was less than ideal. There was definitely a storm moving in, Vaughn realized, seeing the looming dark clouds pulls quickly over the island. A crack of thunder in the distance confirmed his suspicions. He was silently thankful that his ferry had gotten to the island before any inclement weather hit.

Vaughn slowed his pace as he approached the farmhouse door. Without a moment's hesitation, he knocked three times, each strong clunk resonating in his chest. He caught his breath as he waited.

The silence, broken only occasionally by the crackle of thunder in the distance, was deafening.

The cowboy let out a curse under his breath. If she wasn't here, where would she be? He had to find her—ideally before the storm started.

**Ooo**

Chelsea meandered out of the forest and towards the animal shop. She'd taken a long detour in the hopes of clearing her head. It only seemed to others that she was completely empty. On the contrary, her head was now constantly buzzing with a million scenarios in which she'd find Vaughn again.

Most of these scenarios involved incredible sadness and, more often than not, a coroner. Some of them, though, her favorite cowboy was alive and well and happy and _there_.

She sighed, forcing herself to stay positive. She couldn't keep dwelling on this. Hope was all she had, but sometimes she wondered if hope was too exhausting to try to keep up. She could only think up so many good scenarios before they were becoming ridiculously unlikely.

Oh, wait. All of the good scenarios were ridiculously unlikely.

She looked out over the village as she walked towards the shop. The sky was dark with an impending storm. The late-summer sun was making an effort to shine through in the late afternoon, painting the ground a strange, violet color. Chelsea pursed her lips.

The world was drenched in Vaughn.

**Ooo**

"I'm just so glad he's alive!"

Riley smiled at Julia and Mirabelle, who were both crying happy tears. He'd just finished explaining the situation to them. Vaughn was a fool for thinking no one cared about him when he had people like this who so obviously did.

"Where is he now, Riley?" Julia asked, wiping at her face and trying to regain her composure.

"I'm assuming Chelsea's farm," Riley shrugged. "He headed straight in that direction as soon as we docked. It's been a while now and I haven't seen him, so he must have found her."

"Ah," Mirabelle smiled. "I'm so glad! Chelsea has been taking this so badly."

Julia's smile pulled down slightly, concern leaking onto her face. "Yeah, she's ben starving herself, the poor thing. We've been trying so hard to take care of her, but she just didn't want to be helped."

Riley frowned. Poor girl. He couldn't imagine how Vaughn would have been if he'd thought Chelsea was dead for almost three weeks.

Suddenly, the door opened, sending the clang of a cowbell through the air. Everyone turned to see Chelsea walk inside.

Riley blinked.

She looked absolutely horrible. Her face was thinned out and pale, her body was withering away, and her face was so empty. She looked like she was just a shell of who she once was.

And then he realized the most obvious thing: Vaughn wasn't with her.

**Ooo**

Chelsea walked into Mirabelle's shop. The sound of a familiar male voice made her ears perk up—was that—?

"Riley?" She forced out, her voice hoarse. What did this mean?

Oh, Goddess.

No.

No, no, no—she couldn't believe it. Goddess, why?

Vaughn wasn't coming back. Riley was his replacement.

Vaughn was dead.

Chelsea couldn't hear anything except for the blood rushing into her head. She vaguely felt hot tears on her face, pouring in a steady stream. A sob ripped through her body. She took a step backwards and ran into the door.

Then, without giving it another thought, she pulled open the door and rushed into the sprinkling rain.

* * *

**Whelp, this sucks for Chelsea. Things just are not looking up for her, huh?**

**By the way, you are guaranteed to not have to wait too incredibly long for the next chapter because - gasp - I've already written it! Expect it in the next week or two!**

**Again, I'm so sorry for the hiatus on this one, but y'all have to understand that I started college 2000 miles away from home. I've been absolutely swamped, but now, I have this update for y'all! I'm going to rework my whole writing schedule to accommodate to my being in college, so I'll let y'all know how that goes. Also, November is NaNoWriMo (look it up if you don't know what it is - it's great!), so that'll be a curve ball, I'm sure.**

**Anywho, I appreciate all y'all's reviews! Thank you for reading (:**


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